


Fruit of the Pandora Box

by LadyJirachi



Category: Skip Beat!
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Pregnancy, Romance, Smut, Yandere!Ren
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-03-20 00:08:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 35,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3629319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyJirachi/pseuds/LadyJirachi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loneliness was no stranger to Mogami Kyoko. And then one day, she met Tsuruga Ren, and realized he could father the baby she had always wanted. And perhaps more... AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Mogami Kyoko stared at the bottle of pills in her hand. She hadn't taken any today, and her lips were tightly scrunched together as she contemplated what to do. Furtively, she gave a cursory glance around her deserted study room, despite knowing the whole house was empty. He had left early in the morning to attend to his busy duties as one of the most famous and well-known actors in the world, and due to his intensely packed schedule, probably wouldn't be back until the end of the day. It was a miracle, indeed, how the famous star constantly made time for her. It touched her heart.

Kyoko had begged him to keep their relationship secret. The last thing she needed was publicity. Many would think, perhaps, that she was dating Tsuruga Ren for just that, publicity. For his wealth. For his fame. She wasn't part of the showbiz world, after all. She had little to no money for herself; her earnings as a social worker were meager. And above all, people—if they caught wind of her relationship with him—would also be certain of one thing: that she most definitely wasn't being with him because she genuinely loved him.

Well, they were right regarding that last aspect.

It had started out that way, anyway. When Mogami Kyoko had first met Tsuruga Ren by chance, she had been awestruck. Having an ex-boyfriend who was a singer pop-star helped, for one, and she'd furiously yet in the end forcefully complied, after Fuwa Sho had effortlessly manipulated her into serving as a waitress (of sorts) at his little party held in his luxurious home. Several other celebrities had been invited, including Sho's rival and Japan's number one actor (his manager had insisted that it would be poor for Sho's public image if he didn't at least extend an invitation to the man, who had shockingly accepted), and Kyoko had embarrassed herself that night when she had spilled the glass of wine she was serving all over his suit.

He hadn't been angry, which was shocking. If it was Sho he would probably have murdered her, or something. Spewing mad apologies profusely, Kyoko had been abashed when the actor had smiled gently at her instead, and asked if  _she_ was alright. Things hadn't exactly gone better when she had impulsively grabbed her handkerchief from her pocket and attempted to clean the front of his expensive suit, only to realize with horror that she was using a hankie that she had used to clear up some butter from the kitchen counter earlier. For that terrible moment, she had simply stood there frozen and stared at him, her mouth wide open with the hankie hanging limply off her stiff hand. She didn't know what to do. It wasn't as if she could afford to pay him for ruining his Armani suit.

_She didn't know what to do._

And then he had started laughing.

It wasn't a derisive laugh, not like Sho. It was simply laughter—he was amused, he clearly found her a source of humor for reasons she didn't fathom, and so he was laughing. She stared at him harder, wondering if he had gone mad. After a while, Tsuruga Ren had told her amidst chuckles, very kindly, that it was alright, and that she didn't need to worry herself about it.

He was so very kind.

Kyoko had watched him closely, then. He was no doubt an extremely attractive man, with his towering, dignified stature, his silky dark hair and mesmerizing, enigmatic dark eyes, and she didn't need to look past his ruined attire to know that he was very well-built and strong. He was toned and powerful (she'd heard he was gifted in every form of martial arts, even), and very, very intelligent. Too intelligent, sometimes. His prowess and skill as the best actor in the whole of Japan was known to all. He was truly a fine masculine specimen.

He would make the perfect sperm donor.

That was something Mogami Kyoko had been looking for, at least for a while now.

It had started a couple months back, when her best friend, Kanae, had had her first baby in the hospital. He was the most beautiful little thing Kyoko had ever seen, with his tiny button nose, round apple cheeks, and large trusting eyes. She had seen the way the newborn baby gazed at Kanae from where he lay as a clothed bundle in her arms—as if his mother was his only world. And the normally stoic Kanae… she had looked  _happy_.

It was a miracle, indeed. But then babies were all miracles.

Kyoko had been envious. For someone who had been alone a great deal of her life, seeing that little scene before her in the hospital ward had been heart-stirring. She wanted to have a baby of her own to love and to protect and to cherish, to have such a child so precious to her that she could spend her life with. She wanted to wake up to sound of its cries for  _her_ , and to go to sleep at night after singing it to sleep. She didn't want to wake up alone, like she did every day. A baby was what she wanted more than anything else right now.

"You need a man before that can happen, you know," Kanae said flatly, before cooing to her baby, after Kyoko had told her.

The baby giggled.

Kyoko looked stonily at her friend, her usually cheerful demeanor disappearing. "Please, no."

Her brief romance with her childhood friend Sho had hardened her—he had used her feelings for him so that she would willingly serve him and his daily needs then as if she was no more than his own personal servant (or a slave, technically, since it wasn't as if she had been paid), before promptly dumping her one day for a beautiful model he had met.

Men weren't to be trusted. Besides, Kyoko had been raised throughout her childhood by a single mother, and she had done pretty well for herself, hadn't she, without a father?

Who ever said that a father was necessary for bringing up a child?

But a father was necessary for creating one.

Tsuruga Ren was perfect. If any man should father her child, she wanted it to be him. He had the best genes a child could ever want from a father.

And yet she was beginning, over the past month of their relationship, to feel guilty, and to feel other emotions she couldn't understand.

He was incredibly good to her. He was gentle, and yet at the same time, there was a sort of dangerous steel in him. It thrilled her more than she would admit. Lovemaking with him was, suffice to say, different. She wasn't sexually experienced—the furthest she'd ever gotten in that aspect was with Sho, who, admittedly, wasn't bad at all in bed. But all the same Tsuruga Ren was unique; he was careful with her at the same time and yet also very strongly dominant. He left no corner of her body unexplored. He made her breathless. He made her heady. He made her drunk. He made her feel loved.

He made her scared.

Things were going too well. And when things went too well, most of the time they weren't going to last long. Kyoko knew that she was growing steadily attached to him more than she ever planned to in the first place. What did he really see in her? She didn't dare to take in that soft look in his dark eyes when he gazed at her sometimes. Was it affection, like it seemed to be? It was true that she had never had a more doting boyfriend in her life. He was a star, and yet he was dating a woman who was not even in the showbiz world, which was rare of him. She'd known from past articles and news that he had been together with actresses and models before, though their relationships never lasted very long.

Playboy.

The word was bitter in her lips. Was she a new taste for him, him being with a woman who was not part of the acting industry? If his previous relationships had been fleeting, then why would theirs be any different?

Which was a good thing, Kyoko told herself. That was the plan. Tsuruga had told her that he would be heading to Guam soon to shoot a criminal drama, and his stay there might extend up to two months. He had asked her to go with him, but she had refused, saying that her doing so might expose the nature and secrecy of their relationship. He hadn't responded after she had said that, but had simply looked thoughtful, and she had wondered what was going through that enigmatic head of his—he was so mysterious, sometimes. The truth was Kyoko didn't really grasp what Ren actually thought about her persistence in keeping their romance a secret; she had requested it, and he had simply not denied her. That was all she knew from his input in the matter.

No matter. When he headed to Guam—which was in a month's time—she would be ready. That was the time to strike. She would leave him then, and disappear from his life. When he returned he would find her gone. Kyoko's main goal now was to conceive within the remaining time she had left with Ren, and once he was gone for Guam, she would go on her own, with a piece of him embedded in her. He would never know of her pregnancy.

Kyoko inhaled sharply, and placed the bottle of contraception pills firmly back onto the shelf. From today onwards, she was going to stop taking it. She had a month to go, thought she was certain, judging by their active sexual life, that she would conceive very, very easily and swiftly. They were both healthy, and he was absolutely virile.

She moved down the mahogany stairs. It was a large, lavish terrace house she was currently staying in; she had moved to his home since they had started dating. She highly doubted, anyway, that he would want to stay in her tiny apartment, though he had visited her there several times before at the start of their relationship.

Kyoko cracked her knuckles, and rolled her disheveled sleeves up. She was determined to make a proper dinner for Ren today, and with that thought in mind, she grabbed her jacket from the coat hanger by the door and put it on.

Kyoko had never really been an expert when it came to fashion. Much as she loved dressing up, she simply didn't know what to wear, and at the moment she was wearing a long-sleeved sweater (the weather was getting very cold) and knee-high jeans. A diamond necklace, a gift from Ren, lay around her neck.

The Queen Rosa.

She smiled to herself, fingers reaching to tenderly touch the tiny object lying on her collarbone.

It seemed there were other pieces of Ren that she could also take away with her, after all. Her gaze sobered as a saddening realization abruptly came to her.

No. She couldn't take this with her, and she knew it.

* * *

"I'm telling you, I got this figured out," Kyoko insisted as she vigorously cut the vegetables on the chopping board, the knife pressing now and then into the hard plastic. Her cell phone was currently trapped between her shoulder and her ear as she cut away. "I had this planned from the start—"

"Please, you had nothing planned," Kanae snorted from the other line, ignoring Kyoko's indignant splutters. "All you had in that mind of yours was a baby, and then you went right ahead and tried to seduce him—"

"I did not try to seduce him!" Kyoko shouted defensively. She pouted her lip, sniffing theatrically. Her hands clamped over the cut pieces of vegetable before scooping them up and tossing them carefully into a bowl. "Really, Moko-chan, you know nothing about me at all—"

"I know too much about you, that's the problem," Kanae retorted. "This isn't the way, Kyoko, though I supposed I've told you that a million times before. You—" She paused, and Kyoko could hear the baby—Coco-chan—whining in the background. A few seconds passed as Kanae cooed something to him, and then she spoke to Kyoko again. "Honestly. Are you sure you're prepared for motherhood? It's very tiring, you know."

"I'm always prepared!" Kyoko said enthusiastically. "In fact, I'm not taking birth control anymore starting from today. I'm going to buy the baby clothes as soon as I can, and you know I recently saw these fairy PJs on sale, and it's the most adorable thing, I tell you, they even come with rubber wands, Moko-chan _, rubber wands_ —"

"Yeah, yeah, don't drag your fairy fetishes into this, please," Kanae grumbled.

Kyoko's mouth dropped. "Moko-chan, Coco-chan is right there with you! Don't say such inappropriate language!"

"Well, in any case," Kanae said unconcernedly. "What's your plan now? You're still on birth control, right?"

"Well, I'm not anymore starting from today," Kyoko said, more soberly this time. She glanced at the clock. It was nearly nine. He was going to come home soon, and she bet that he hadn't eaten dinner—as always. "He's heading for Guam in a month's time."

"And?" Kanae said quietly.

"That's it." Kyoko told herself that it was the sting of the onions she was now chopping that was causing her eyes to tear up. She coughed. "I'll have to go, then."

"You sound sad," Kanae said skeptically. "Your great plan isn't all that great, is it? You don't even want to leave him."

"There's no point in staying on anymore by then," Kyoko said simply. "I told you, you don't need a father to raise a child. What's wrong with a single mother?"

"Nothing," Kanae said. "But you're cruel, you know."

"C-cruel?" Kyoko stammered, nearly dropping the chopper.

"Using him as your personal baby-maker, that's what," Kanae said bluntly. "I know you have little to no faith in men, but Tsuruga-san is different. He truly loves you."

"I need to go," Kyoko said quickly.

"What? Wait! Is it because of what I said?  _Love?_ Kyoko, don't be foolish, for heaven's sake—"

"Seeya," she chirped, and hung up the phone with her food-stained bare hands. She sighed, wiping her dirtied phone with a towel.

Alright. It was time to finish up making the rest of his dinner.

It was half an hour later when she finally took out the metal tray of steaming turkey from the oven. She inhaled deeply, and smiled at the delicious aroma wafting to her nose. Her stomach grumbled audibly, and her face flushed, smile faltering. She was hungrier than she'd anticipated. Still, she refused to eat until Tsuruga-san was home, and with that in mind, she gingerly lowered the tray onto the table with oven mitten-clad hands.

Kyoko checked the rice cooker. The small light on its white surface was flickering green, a sign that it was done. Once she finished checking, she heaped the cooked vegetables from the saucepan onto a plate.

She was just about finished when she heard it; the sounds of the sleek car's engine rumbling in the driveway. Excited, she removed her mitts and rested them on the side of the counter.

She opened the kitchen door, and skipped to the head of the staircase, before peering enthusiastically at the main entrance, and watched on as the large oak door of the house slowly opened.

A tall, dark-haired man came into view, his footfalls graceful and sure-footed. His silky raven hair, despite him having been out and active the whole day, framed the sides of his angular, elegant face smoothly. He was wearing a long trench coat, along with full-length leather-tight trousers that clung to his long sinuous legs. A satchel hung off his shoulder.

He looked up, and smiled the tender smile that caused thousands of his female fans to swoon every single time they saw it.

"I'm home, Mogami-san."

* * *

It was strange, she knew. Despite having dated for quite a while, the pair remained on a last-name basis. Kyoko hadn't dared to call him by his first name—she had no idea what his reaction would be, and it felt so strangely informal to acknowledge him as such. Calling him by his first name left her with a pang of startling intimacy that she wasn't prepared for, that she wasn't sure she would ever be prepared for. He never pushed her in this aspect, and had always politely regarded her with the similar formality that she addressed him with. She wondered if he was just as guarded as she was, or if he was simply reciprocating her refusal to breach the invisible boundaries between them.

The only times she had accidentally called him  _Ren_ were in the midst of the heat of their lovemaking sessions, when the name had fallen uncontrollably—intimately—from her lips. He seemed to have liked it, she realized, for his ministrations on her body always sped up whenever she called him that.

But all the same, it was rare for any of them to address each other by their first name in the day.

"You look really tired, Tsuruga-san," Kyoko said in concern as she lowered the plate of cooked vegetables onto the dining table. "Was work tough for you today?"

Ren smiled at her. He took off his trench coat, revealing the long black loose turtleneck sweater he wore underneath.

"A little, I suppose," he conceded. "But there's nothing surprising about that." He cast his warm dark gaze on the dishes on the marble table. "And I see that you've done an outstanding job once again. You shouldn't have."

"Of course I should!" Kyoko insisted. "You didn't eat dinner again, did you? You must be starving!"

She had barely finished speaking when a drawn-out growl suddenly echoed in the initially quiet air. The unexpected sound was loud—loud enough that she froze in her tracks. Both of them stilled, and they stared at each other for a shocked moment. Still standing by the edge of the table, she could feel her face reddening as she met amused obsidian eyes.

_Why did her stomach have to ruin things at a time like this?_

He smiled teasingly at her. "Well, now that you mentioned it, I  _am_ starving. Shall we eat?"

"Stop laughing at me!" Kyoko cried theatrically, regaining her ability to speak once more. She ripped her already loosened apron off from around her waist and pressed the fabric to her heated face, making sure that all her features were covered. "This isn't funny! You're laughing at me, aren't you?"

"Mogami-san—"

"Yes, you are! I can hear it in your voice! Stop it! It's not funny!"

A large adroit hand gently descended onto her small one, and she stiffened as he softly tugged her fingers away, peeling the apron from her crimson face. She probably looked like a tomato right then, with her red cheeks and disheveled copper hair sticking out.

Damned his face! His mesmerizing dark eyes were glimmering imploringly at her, his raven head tilted slightly to one side. She recognized that look; she'd seen him use that alluring expression many times before.

"Let's eat together, Mogami-san."

She flushed.

A few minutes later they were both seated by the table, tucking into their dinner. A companionable silence had stretched on between the couple, save for the sounds of cutlery clinking lightly against their plates. Most her embarrassment had finally faded away throughout the meal, and she munched on happily at last, beaming at him.

"Mogami-san," he said quietly.

Kyoko brightened. "Yes?"

"I believe you know of the upcoming awards event," he responded. "I spoke to you about it, yes?"

"Oh!" Kyoko nodded. "Yes, you said there's going to be a huge awards event held next week, and that you were nominated. It's a sort of film award show, isn't it? Lots of other famous actors will be there too."

"That's correct," he said gently.

"What about it?" Kyoko said, chewing away on her rice. "Don't worry, Tsuruga-san, knowing that it's you, you definitely already won the award! Next week is going to be a great week for you!"

It was simply, she thought, ridiculous to even think that Tsuruga Ren hadn't won. Even from where they sat in his home she could see the accolades and awards he had achieved over the years throughout his acting career situated on the tall shelves around them. The upcoming award show was simply another achievement that he would be adding to his shelves in no time next week.

And that amount would only keep growing, she knew. It seemed his success as Japan's top actor was only becoming more and more immense as time passed. After all, everyone— _everyone_ —knew that as long as his name was etched in the credits of a drama series or a movie (or any film production, really), the result would be certain: the ratings for the film were going to be sky high.

"I'm flattered that you think so," Ren said, smiling. "But no, that's not why I'm mentioning this to you."

She widened her eyes. "Then… why?"

He lowered his cutlery gracefully on his plate, and then gazed at her. Something about the intensity of his stare made her suddenly uneasy.

"Ye—yes?" she asked timidly, swallowing.

"I will be expected to turn up with a date," he said, with deceptive mildness.

She flushed. "I—I… Well, if Tsuruga-san really has to, it's alright! You can go with anyone you like! I really don't mind! It's all for work, isn't it?"

"Really?" he prompted gently. "I can go with anyone I like?"

She forced a smile. "I mean—well, yes. Don't worry about me, Tsuruga-san. I'll be fine. I—won't be jealous, or anything—"

"I see." His large hand unexpectedly landed on hers, where she had been resting her hand beside her plate. His appendage was so big that he enveloped her tiny hand completely. She squeaked, and jumped in her seat, nearly whipping herself away from the sudden contact. "Then may I please have the honors of having you go with me, Mogami-san?"

Her mouth was wide agape, probably showing him an eyeful of the half-chewed up rice inside, but she was too shocked to care. " _Me?_ "

"Of course." His baritone was quietly casual, but there was a blunt quality to it that stunned her. "To be honest, I've been considering it for a while now. I believe it's time."

"T—time?"

"To make our relationship public," he said gently. "What do you think, Mogami-san?"

Her face had gone red again, and she was stammering and spluttering incoherently under her breath, nearly choking on her rice. He waited patiently for her to regain her composure, his hand still resting wordlessly over hers.

She wasn't ready for this. It wasn't supposed to be part of her plan, after all. If their being together was made public, what was going to happen to her after she broke up with Tsuruga-san?

What she needed was for things between them to be discreet and covert. Revealing the truth about their relationship to the public wasn't going to help at all, especially once it reached the point of time where she intended to end things with him. She wanted to make a clean, quiet cut. A little slip and she would be out of his life forever. What if the media recognized her later on?

She wondered why she was suddenly feeling a clench of pain in her chest.

A sudden sound rung through the air, shrill against the initial silence. It stretched on, persistent and incessant. Kyoko jumped in her chair, and Ren, who was startled as well, loosened his hand above hers. Thankful for the distraction, Kyoko blurted out hastily, "Excuse me," before fleeing and making a mad rush for her cell phone, which she had left in the kitchen.

She didn't dare to look at his face.

Once Kyoko had gotten her hands quickly on her cell phone (which was resting on the kitchen counter), she impulsively answered the call without even so much a glance at her caller ID. Her embarrassment and discomfort was still gnawing away at her, and she was desperate to drag things out for as long as she could here in the kitchen without having to return to Ren, and above all, answer his request.

"Hello?" she said, half-expecting to hear Kanae's cool, irritated voice.

"Kyoko." A very familiar masculine voice drawled in her ear.

Her eyes widened as she inhaled sharply. She could already feel her heart plummeting to the bottom of her chest at the caller's voice. Oh no. Almost immediately she regretted picking up the call.

"So I finally managed to contact you, huh," Fuwa Sho said. "You've been completely MIA recently, at least for the past month. You never pick up calls, you never answer texts, and when I go over to your flat, you're never at home. Not even in the middle of the night. Where are you now?"

"Y-you stalker!" Kyoko spat, her fingers clenching over the hard granite of the kitchen counter. A part of her was very tempted to just hang up on him right then, but she had a feeling he was going to call back the moment she did that. "It's none of your business where I am!"

This was not good. She did not want to talk on the phone with Sho when Tsuruga-san was in the house. It was known to her that the two felt a mutual disdain towards the other. Sho had once openly and publicly challenged Tsuruga-san a long time ago, declaring that he was going to surpass the actor in both popularity and status one day. The actor had not even acknowledged his challenge, which had only fueled the singer's loathing towards him. Ren's personal contempt towards the singer had also worsened over time as well once Kyoko had begun dating Ren; after all, the actor knew that she was Sho's ex. On the other hand, Kyoko was also not too keen to let Sho know that she was now romantically involved with Ren.

This was a very, very bad situation indeed.

"Who are you calling a stalker?" Sho snorted. "Don't flatter yourself. Now where the hell are you? You're not at home. I checked. Where the fuck have you been for the past month, Kyoko?"

"And how is this any of your business?" Kyoko shot back. "I'm busy now. I'm—"

"Not so fast," Sho drawled. "If you ignore me, I can make you very, very sorry."

"Oh, is this the part where I'm supposed to be intimidated?" Kyoko mocked. "Sorry, I'm not scared of you."

"If you're not scared of me, then why don't you tell me where you are?" Sho taunted. "Oh, I know why. Someone's terrified that I might find her. Terrified of  _me_ , to be exact."

Kyoko's jaw dropped indignantly. "Who's terrified of you?"

"Hmmm, let me guess—oh, I know, how about the person who's been hiding from me for the past month?"

"I haven't been hiding from you!" Kyoko barked. It was infuriating, how he could so effortlessly get under her skin, like she was some sort of puppet whose strings were always readily available for him to play with. He was always manipulating her. "I've been—been busy is all!"

"Busy?" Sho asked. "Busy with what?"

"Once again, it's none of your business!" Kyoko retorted.

Of course she hadn't been at home for the past month. She had moved in with Tsuruga-san, which was why Sho hadn't been able to get hold of her. He had no idea that she was staying with Ren, after all. She had a very good feeling, though, that if he found out he was going to go nuts with fury.

"Look," Sho said, his tone grudging. "Let's just say that wherever you are, it's not a good idea for a girl to be wandering around outside alone. Where have you been if you're not at home? Do you have any idea how dangerous your current situation can be?"

Kyoko blinked. Was the singer actually—?

No. He couldn't be. It was just her imagination. There was no way Sho could ever be concerned about her.

"I'm not alone, okay?" she snapped. "Besides, I'm perfectly fine on my own anyway. What do you take me for? Some defenseless sort of girl?"

"Yes," Sho said bluntly. "And what do you mean, you're not alone?"

She straightened, feeling too angry to realize her accidental slip. "I'm sorry? And just how in any way do I come off as defenseless to you?"

"In every way," he said matter-of-factly. "And answer me already—"

"Baka Sho!" she yelled into her phone. "You're an idiot! Idiot _! Idiot!"_

And with that, Kyoko hung up furiously, and slammed her cell phone onto the hard granite of the counter, glowering at the innocent device. It was just like Sho to annoy her like this—every single time he called her he always made her angrier and angrier with his constant quips and taunts. She hated how he always got the better of her in every one of their arguments, no matter how much she tried to keep her cool around him.

Damn him!

Still muttering curses under her breath, she spun around, arms folded grumpily—and froze.

Ren was leaning languidly against the doorway of the kitchen, watching her like a lazy yet powerful feline. He looked utterly expressionless; she couldn't read a single thing from the impassive angular features of his face. And as she stared back in horror at him, all she could think of was—

_How long had he been standing there?_

"Tsuruga-san," she squeaked. "H-have you finished dinner?"

He looked back at her, and immediately she quaked at the coolness in his liquid dark eyes.

"Who was that on the phone?" Ren inquired, with deliberate slowness. She didn't miss how his velvety baritone had become distinctively cold.

"It was, um—"

What was the point, really, in trying to hide it from him? She'd yelled out Sho's name less than a minute ago during their argument on a heated whim (even if Ren hadn't been eavesdropping by the doorway he'd definitely have heard it from the dinner table thanks to the volume of her voice), and now she was beginning to regret her impulsiveness more than ever.

Why couldn't she ever think before she acted?

"It—it was Shotaro," Kyoko finally admitted, feeling as if she was about to choke on the name. "But it was really nothing—"

"I thought things between the two of you were over?" Ren's voice was flat.

"They are!" Kyoko cried out desperately. "They couldn't be more over, really! He and I, we have nothing to do with each other anymore—"

"Then why is he still contacting you?" Ren said, still in the same flat tone of voice. She could practically feel her skin prickling uneasily as his smothering onyx eyes raked her face intently. "Unless the both of you are now, perhaps, friends?"

Kyoko's head jerked. "No, we're not!" she said at once. "I'd never consider that  _thing_ my friend, especially after how he treated me! We really have nothing to do with each other anymore, Tsuruga-san, it's just—" She fumbled blindly for the words she needed to express. "Sometimes he harasses me, because he likes making me angry! He's a—a complete  _jerk_!"

"When I first spoke to you that day long ago, shortly before we went out," Ren said coolly, "You were his waitress, weren't you?"

"I didn't volunteer for that!" Kyoko said, her hands waving wildly in an effort to convince him. "I thought I told you before, Tsuruga-san! He completely manipulated me into it! He challenged me, because at that time he accused me of being frightened of him, and I wasn't, and I got really mad, and next thing I knew I was helping him out as his waitress to prove myself—"

She swallowed, suddenly too fearful to continue. Ren's toned arms were crossed, and the look on his face was frightening—quite a contrast to his usually gentle exterior. He positively towered over her, she suddenly realized, feeling intimidated.

"You're far too naïve," he said, taking a step towards her. She cowered at his reprimand. "If you continue like this, you're always going to be manipulated by him."

"I know, I know!" Kyoko wailed remorsefully. "I'm trying to change, I really am!"

He moved nearer to her, and she backed away instinctively. And yet he continued approaching her, and she flinched, still moving away step by step while he came nearer and nearer. Squeaking, her back hit the counter, and she froze.

And then she felt his masculine warmth brush past her as he reached over gracefully and took her phone from the counter behind her.

"Tsuruga-san!"

He ignored her, pressed onto the button and browsed through her phone. She wrestled the urge to wrench it from his grasp, but that, she knew, would only seal her guilt further.

"Hmm," Ren commented at last, after a few tense seconds of silence, lowering the phone. "Looks like I'll have to get you a new phone. And a change of number." He glanced at her, eyes impenetrable.

"But, Tsuruga-san—" she spluttered.

"You said you were trying to change."

"I am!"

"Well, this is the first step, is it not? I believe you said yourself that you don't wish to be manipulated by him anymore. Well, not letting him contact you anymore would be the first step."

Kyoko bit her lips. "Well, yes—"

"Then what seems to be the problem?" He eyed her calmly, still holding up her phone with a single large hand.

"Nothing, it's just…" She couldn't find the words.

To be honest she wasn't even sure why she was objecting his request (or if what he stated could even be called a request, judging by the steel in his demeanor). Perhaps it was because she didn't want to be in his debt any more than she already was. She knew that there was no way she could afford a new cell phone, or to buy a new phone plan along with a new number. She simply didn't have the finances for it, and she couldn't let Tsuruga-san pay the money like this. Sho was her problem. She wasn't going to drag Tsuruga-san into this.

Not when she was going to leave him soon in a month's time.

There was a pause, and then Tsuruga spoke again.

"I see." He laid the phone softly back onto the counter. "So that's how it is."

And then he was sweeping away from her, towards the exit of the kitchen.

Her paralyzed senses seemed to spring to life again when she realized what was happening.

"Wait!" Kyoko dashed after him, her bare feet smacking against the polished timber floor. He paused in his tracks, not looking back, and she panted slightly as she came to a stop, before reaching up and grabbing hold of his broad hard shoulder. In contrast, the soft cashmere of his loose turtleneck rustled beneath her touch. "Please don't misunderstand! I do want to change! I  _will_  change!"

He turned slightly to gaze at her.

"I won't let myself be done in by Sho anymore!" Kyoko insisted, making sure she met his dark piercing gaze head on. "I swear!"

He remained silent.

"I won't answer his calls anymore," Kyoko ranted determinedly. "I promise. He's such an asshole anyway, why would I want to talk to him? I'd be happy if he rots somewhere! That's right! I wouldn't care less about what he wants to do with his stupid life! Right now, all I just want is…" She faltered slightly as she continued looking at Ren. "Please don't be angry with me anymore, Tsuruga-san."

A flicker of a heartbeat passed.

Before Kyoko could so much as take in his reaction, she found herself letting out a shocked squeal when strong arms abruptly reached out and scooped her small body up. Her squeals rose slightly in volume as her head ended up pressed against the hard planes of his chest, and she could feel her face reddening like a chili pepper at the unexpected contact, and at the sensuous warmth enveloping her body like a wondrous coat.

"Tsuruga-san?" Kyoko whispered, turning her head slightly against his chest.

He didn't reply, and he didn't have to, for the next thing she knew they were moving—moving to the vinyl couch just across the dining table. He glided swiftly, still carrying her bridal-style, and she remained stiff and unmoving in his embrace, too embarrassed to move.

He lowered her gently onto the surface of the sofa, long masculine fingers briefly skimming through her copper hair, and for a moment she thought that he was back to his usual self—the kind, soft and warm Ren. But then his heated lips landed on hers roughly, and she let out a small moan as he moved against her mouth fiercely, unapologetically.

He was crouched above her, though she noticed through a rapidly growing haze that he was making sure not to crush any of his muscled weight on her. She tugged at him closer, her hands going around the dignified column of his neck, and kissed him harder. Feeling his powerful physique pressed against her body was making her feel steadily more and more delirious, and she emitted another breathless moan as he suddenly moved away from her mouth before raining shattering kisses down the creamy path of her own exposed neck. The places along her skin where his smothering mouth had ravaged felt raw and throbbing.

Kyoko whimpered, tensing as she felt his sharp teeth sink into the milky flesh below her collarbone, near where the curve of her breasts lay. Her hands tightened helplessly over the silkiness of his raven hair at the resulting assault of sensations smothering through her veins. And then Ren's long talented fingers were probing the neckline of her shirt, and she nearly choked on her breath as he swiftly popped the buttons below in fluid, unhesitating succession, parting the cloth. His large hand swept across the cotton-clad mounds of her breasts, brushing across her bra.

She felt exposed, and she turned her head against the vinyl of her sofa, her face red. "Don't look, Tsuruga-san…"

She could feel the vibration of his low, husky chuckle run up her chest. "Even after countless times… you never change."

She would have felt more miffed at the idea that he was laughing at her if not for the fact that his adroit fingers had abruptly shifted to the bra strap by her side. His other arm moved around to her thin back, and she squeaked when he lifted her slightly. Instinctively she clung tighter around his strong shoulders, her face flushed a deeper shade of red as Ren deftly undid the bra clasp behind her.

His dark head bent as her bra fell away, and he kissed the slight pink indents the firm straps of her bra had left on her otherwise smooth alabaster skin. His hot lips against the raw skin made her cry out, and she buried her face against his hard shoulder, inhaling his masculine scent deeply.

She loved being held by him. She loved the way he made her feel loved. Until now Kyoko wasn't sure if the latter was simply an illusion for her, but the fact remained that being with Tsuruga-san had engendered the warmest sense of security and happiness she'd ever gotten from a male figure in her life. He made her feel safe. He made her feel cherished. He made her feel so very alive.

But then again, he was an actor, after all. This was what he did best in, perhaps—stirring illusions in his audience's hearts… He was truly incredible, for even she, who had long lost faith in men, had fallen for his show. She didn't even know what to believe anymore.

Only it didn't matter. Whether he truly loved her or not was one thing, but it was definitely true that he was so very good to her. He dedicated much of his life to her, and she couldn't deny that even if he was acting, it was an act that was kind and tender. She owed him too much.

"Tsuruga-san," she whispered, her hands clutching his muscled shoulder tighter. He paused, stilling, and she forced herself to continue.

"I'll go with you to the awards show."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't even begin to say how grateful I am to all of you for giving this story a little chance! I know this plot is really quite distinctive from the original plot of Skip Beat!, but I wanted to give my own little twist to it in this AU. I will try my best to keep everyone in character, but then again, their personalities are also not completely the same as the canon version.
> 
> Lots of things are not really the same, actually. You'll see! Thanks for joining the ride, and I hope you stick around! I have a lot of things planned, and this is only the beginning.
> 
> (As you can guess, Fuji Yuki is an OC that I created. I'm not sure if Momose Itsumi had an actual manager that was revealed in the manga, and if there is, please accept a thousand apologies from me for weaving an OC in my little piece of fanfiction!
> 
> Once again, thanks for reading, and do drop a comment if you liked/disliked it.)

 

" _What?_  You're going to the awards show  _tomorrow_?"

Kyoko winced as she moved her cell phone slightly away from her ear. "Yes, Moko-san."

"You do know the implications of that, don't you?" Kanae said disbelievingly. "Are you sure you're ready to go through with this? The moment you step out together with him in public, and during such a highly publicized event at that, it's sealed. You can't undo it."

"Well," Kyoko said weakly. "We  _are_  in public right now."

And it was true. Ren had chosen to bring her out for lunch, where she currently sat by an expensive seaside restaurant, waiting for him to return to her side. The Fullor Hotel, which was located directly right beside the restaurant in all its splendor, was truly a lavish place indeed. Ren had gone over to said grand hotel to speak to his manager, no doubt to discuss whatever plans or issues he had regarding the awards event being held the very next day, and had promised her that he would return to the restaurant within half an hour.

"Yes, but there're no cameras flashing all around you right now, are there?" Kanae retorted from the other end. "On the other hand, the Star Awards is an annual event where all celebrities in the filming industry gather together around the globe to celebrate. This is huge, Kyoko. Of all places you could go with him, you have to go there."

Kyoko swallowed, feeling her face whiten despite the soothing breeze across her skin. Patrons around her were basking in the cheerful sun from where they sat underneath the large umbrellas by their tables, and she wished she could do the same despite the mass of conflicts presently prominent in her heart. She pressed a hand to her chiffon summer dress, her sandaled feet moving slightly across the cement ground.

"He says he… intends to make our relationship public," she finally admitted, after a long pause.

Another pause ensued.

And then Kanae spoke.

" _Are you kidding?"_  she demanded. "What happened to seducing Tsuruga Ren and having his baby and then sneaking off away from his life? And you're  _publicizing_ your relationship? As if things aren't hard enough as they are!"

"Moko-san, please don't say it like that," Kyoko whispered, wincing against her cell phone again. "I know what I'm getting into, please don't worry—"

"And how do you intend to make a getaway from him should you ever get pregnant, when the whole of the media knows who you are?" Kanae snorted. "This is futile."

"Well," Kyoko said softly. "At least I got the main part of my mission completed."

There was another long drawn-out pause.

"What?" Kanae finally exhaled out sharply in response. Her voice seemed to crack slightly from the other line. "Main part?" Koyko could hear her sucking in her breath again. "Right… I remember you told me a week ago that you were quitting birth control. But it's only been a week, you can't possibly already…"

"Yeah, I did," Kyoko said, just as softly as before. "Yesterday night I did a few tests which I'd bought from the drugstore. All three of them came up positive."

" _Tests_? You mean…  _pregnancy_  tests?"

"Um," Kyoko said, wincing, "Yes."

There was a long silence on the phone, and for a while, no one said anything. Kyoko wondered if her best friend was even more shocked than she was.

And she herself had been extremely shocked when she found out yesterday evening, in that exact moment, staring at the little pink lines under the amber lights of the bathroom ceiling. This was one hell of an understatement. Even now, she still seemed to be in a sort of a daze throughout the phone call, unsure of what to make of her secret discovery. It felt so surreal somehow; after all, she had dreamed of this moment since that day in the quiet, private ward where she had visited Kanae with her newborn baby, and now here she was, sitting in a luxurious, expensive restaurant she had never envisioned she could ever afford to sit in, a few months—nine, actually—away from living the exact same moment as Kanae had back in the hospital.

She couldn't wait.

But first she waited for her best friend's reaction. It was rare for Kanae to ever to be at a loss of words. Very rare, indeed.

"You- you took three tests?"

"Yes," Kyoko answered, as numbly as Kanae had spoken.

"And all three were positive?"

"Y-yeah."

"Does… he know?"

"No," Kyoko said faintly. "I threw them out before he came home last night."

"Oh my goodness, Kyoko," Kanae said, stunned. "You did it, huh? You really did it. You got what you wanted."

"Yeah," Kyoko whispered, and she wondered why the joy that bubbled in her chest was bittersweet.

"The three tests could all be a fluke," Kanae said, almost to herself, like she was hoping it was. Kyoko didn't know whether to be offended or not.

"It's not just the tests, Moko-san," Kyoko forced out, in the same whisper. "It was about a day ago when it started. My, um, you know, have been getting really sore lately. They're hurting, even now. Did that happen with you as well during your pregnancy?"

"Your what?" Kanae said sharply. "Are you talking about your breasts, Kyoko? Mou, you talk like a ridiculous virgin, which is flat-out ironic, since you are most certainly not."

Her face turned a fiery red. "Y-yes."

"So what now?" Kanae demanded. She seemed to be recovering from her shock at last, and her voice from the phone was crisp, business-like and brisk once more. "Are you very, very sure you're going to just leave him? This is a baby, you know. Your flesh and blood.  _His_ flesh and blood. It's not too late to tell him the truth."

"I'm not going to," Kyoko replied quietly, holding up her glass of water and bringing it to her lips. The chilly water was refreshing, and she lowered her eyelids, savoring the whisper of a breeze across her heated cheeks. Her bronze locks lifted lightly. "I thought I told you, Moko-san. I'm not dragging him into this. I wanted this child from the start, and I'll take responsibility for it on my own. My mother was a single mother, and who knew responsibility better than her?"

"I seriously need to talk to you privately, and face-to-face," Kanae said tersely. "This is crazy."

"You knew my plan from the very beginning, Moko-san," Kyoko reminded her, albeit meekly.

"Yeah. I did, but now that it's finally happened, I don't know what to believe anymore," Kanae said tiredly. "Kyoko, you need to tell him. Either tell him now, or just leave as soon as possible. Don't go to the awards show. You can't announce your relationship with him publicly, then just run off afterwards, carrying his baby, no less."

"It's not his," Kyoko snapped, feeling aggrieved suddenly, for reasons unknown. Her hand left the glass, and she brushed against her chiffon clad belly with shaking, slightly wet fingers. "It's mine. More than anything else, it's mine. I wanted it for ages, and now I have it.  _It's mine."_

"No, it's not," Kanae snapped right back. There was mild sympathy in her voice, but she was brutally unhesitant in her response. "At least, it's not just yours. Hate to break it to you, Kyoko, but it takes two hands to clap. This isn't just your decision to make. It's his, as well. If you don't intend to let him make it, then don't wait until he goes to Guam when you leave. Leave him as soon as you can now. I know how you feel, but—"

"Moko-san, I'm sorry," Kyoko said, uncharacteristically calm, "but you don't know how I feel."

There was a short silence.

"Love," Kanae said, at last. The word seemed to ricochet across Kyoko's chest like a lethal whip, and she flinched. "You still won't give it a try with Tsuruga-san?"

"Moko-san," Kyoko said tightly. "Please. We've been through this." Her head jerked slightly beneath the crimson shade of the massive umbrella above her. "I need to go soon. He's going to be back anytime now."

"Soon, Kyoko," Kanae said, in her no-nonsense voice, "We're going to have to talk properly about this."

Kyoko winced. "I know, I know. To be honest, something has been troubling me for a while right now. You see, my mother—" She stopped, and tensed against the hard back of her white chair as a familiar tall, towering figure began approaching her from the distance, moving gracefully. "He's back. I have to go, Moko-san."

"Fine," Kanae said. "I'll call you later."

She hung up.

Briefly, Kyoko stuffed her phone into her clutch, before lowering the smooth leather along the side of the table. She smiled and looked up as the tall, gorgeous man appeared closer before her, dressed in a tasteful velvet dark coat and long skin-tight dress pants. The silky, loose night locks of his hair were slightly tousled by the breeze, and it only made him look all the more effortlessly elegant as always. His fluid, casual movements as he reached the table belied the immense masculine strength and power coiled and leashed within him.

"I apologize," Ren murmured, his obsidian eyes raking her small face intently beneath a row of sooty lashes. "I took a while."

Kyoko immediately raised her hands in protest. "It's perfectly fine, Tsuruga-san! It wasn't a long wait at all! After all, you had to attend to some really important matters, and I understand that!"

He smiled at her, and something about the sensual upturn of those perfect lips made her heart flip unexpectedly in her chest. He lowered himself quietly onto the empty chair opposite hers, and glanced sideways as a waiter—smartly dressed in a buttoned white shirt and waistcoat, as part of his staff uniform—materialized before them, passing the pair separate menus, before holding his notepad at the ready for their orders.

"What would you like to have, Mogami-san?" Ren inquired, dark eyes still on her.

Kyoko bit her lip, scanning the foreign words on display on the menu, as well as the ridiculous numeric figures listed beside each illustration of a sumptuous-looking dish. "Tsuruga-san… All these are too expensive… I can't…"

His smile remained, though his eyes grew softer. Without answering her, the actor addressed the waiter, before making their order for them in low, baritone serene tones. She stared incredulously at her lover, wondering whether he had even heard her—if so, he was completely ignoring her! Why couldn't he understand that she couldn't afford this? Everything about this lush seaside restaurant screamed an entire new league far beyond her reach; it screamed affluence and wealth. Goodness, it was located next to the deluxe Fullor Hotel, after all. All the other patrons were obvious figures of status or influence; they were all dressed in expensive attire from where they sat and they carried themselves with a similar air Tsuruga-san himself carried: dignity. She felt oddly self-conscious.

It wasn't the first time Ren had brought her to such an ornate and expensive place to dine, but it was certainly a rare time. Kyoko had always protested to him that she couldn't afford such places (and she did not want him paying for her), and she just as often made a fuss whenever he showered expensive trinkets or such on her person. The Queen of Rosa had nearly caused her to pass out when he had presented it to her as a birthday gift just last month—it was a freaking  _diamond_ , after all, and definitely not just any simple, lowly-cut diamond either. Moving into his opulent home had been one thing, but she had always very openly resisted his subtle attempts to give her a luxurious lifestyle that had initially been beyond her means. Ren had gradually allowed her little ways, at least on the surface, though the sly, intelligent male tended to use cunningly discreet ways to coerce her into accepting his expensive gifts and whatnot (the Queen of Rosa, for one).

The waiter nodded respectfully once Ren finished, and he gave a little bow in assent, before collecting both the menus back under his arm and then finally moving away from the table.

"Tsuruga-san!" Kyoko burst out, once the waiter was out of earshot. "I can't afford this, and I don't want you to pay for such an expensive meal either, at least not for me!" Ren, after all, always paid for all their meals together whenever they ate outside. This was the main reason why Kyoko insisted on her cooking their dinner at home more often.

Ren leaned back against his chair, and she stiffened slightly as those smothering dark eyes—it seemed he never once took them off her since his arrival, even when he was talking to the waiter—scanned her face, before dipping to take in her slender diminutive body. Her fingers tightened unconsciously over the chiffon hem of her summer dress, and her self-consciousness only rose further at his very open perusal of her person. He wasn't even bothering to hide it.

"Tsuruga-san!" Kyoko lifted and waved her arm at him, hoping the flush on her face wasn't too obvious. "Are you listening to me?"

The sculpted lips lifted further. "You look very fetching in that dress, Mogami-san."

Alright, there was no doubt that the flush on her face was very visible now. Her voice came out strangled. "Tsuruga-san!"

Ren finally tilted his dark head, and he let out a soft, gentle chuckle. "It's only a compliment. Calm yourself, Mogami-san."

She gave him an affronted look, her pulse racing. "Stop teasing me already!"

He murmured, "But I was merely stating my honest opinion, you know."

Kyoko's flush deepened, and she glared at him. "I've worn this so many times already. It's not even new to you anymore."

"And why would it being new change anything?" Ren questioned, his regal brows raised.

She was slightly taken aback. "I… Well…" She was at a loss of words on what to respond when a sudden realization came to her, and she inhaled sharply, her eyes staring daggers at him. "You're trying to distract me, aren't you? About the restaurant?"

He propped his chin gracefully with a long-fingered large hand on the table, observing her. "Such self-denial."

Kyoko's glower didn't falter one bit. "Tsuruga-san, I won't let you pay for me like this. Not for such an expensive place. I'll pay this time myself."

"Tell me, Mogami-san." Ren's baritone was tranquil, deceptively so. "Do you understand what I intend to announce about us at the awards event tomorrow?"

She stared at him. There he was again, digressing! She wanted to argue, but there was uncharacteristic steel in his unfathomable dark eyes that advised her otherwise.

"Um," Kyoko said uncomfortably. "I suppose so."

"And what would that be?"

Why was he pressing this? Still, she did the wise thing by complying. "That we're t-t-together?" Kyoko stuttered, her cheeks reddening further.

"And what does being together mean?"

Her hazel eyes widened.  _What_  was his point? "Tsuruga-san—"

"Mogami-san."

It struck her—not for the first time—then, how ironically bizarre their situation currently was. Here the two of them sat, a couple who had countlessly explored the most physical level of intimacy together under the bed sheets at night, and yet in the day, they were still addressing each other using formal terms. She knew that there were indeed lingering barriers between them that no amount of sex and physical touch could break through—only she wasn't sure anymore if she was the one who had introduced them in the first place, and if so: was she the one who should hold the responsibility of solving them?

"W-why do you ask these questions, Tsuruga-san?" Kyoko said wearily.

"Because you don't seem to understand what it means to be together with someone."

His reply was unruffled, cool, and unhesitant.

"I-I do!" Kyoko said, feeling stung for reasons unknown. "How can you say that, Tsuruga-san?"

"Then you should understand that it is about time, Mogami-san," Ren said gently, but there was also something unmoved in his baritone voice that she was not foolhardy enough to ignore, "to allow me to do more of what I wish to do as your other half. When I make things clear about our relationship to the media tomorrow, I hope I'm making things clear to you as well. I will always buy things for you. I will pay for the things that will bring you delight and pleasure, regardless of their price and value. I will do them because I want to, and if you protest, it shows you do not want me. Do you understand that, Mogami-san?"

The coolness of the Queen Rosa against the feverish warmth of her neck was suddenly an unexpected contrast she had not noticed before, and she resisted the urge to reach up and grasp the little scarlet gem. For what, she didn't know.

For comfort to assuage her guilt?

Fortunately for Kyoko, she was saved from having to make a response when the same waiter appeared again, this time carrying a loaded silver tray. The delicious, mouth-watering aroma of the served dishes wafted copiously to her nose, and she felt her tummy spasm with a strong pang of hunger. She hadn't even realized how ravenous she was until the food had materialized, and her wide hazel eyes greedily took in the porcelain plates of delectable tomato spaghetti and breaded shrimps now sitting on the table before them. The clink of silverware resounded as the waiter, with a gloved hand, lifted a small basket from his tray before distributing said cutlery.

Before long, the couple was left to their own devices once more, and Kyoko lifted the cold steel of her fork, already eager to tuck in despite her initial protests about the restaurant. Hunger was, shockingly, a very powerful incentive.

"Who were you talking to on the phone just now?" Ren inquired curiously, sipping from his glass of water with an adroit large hand. Unlike Kyoko, he did not seem hungry—but then again, Ren's appetite for food had always been ridiculously limited.

In any case, it seemed that—at least for now—the matter was put to a rest.

"Oh," Kyoko said, looking up, already chewing vigorously away on the spaghetti. The hot, velvety sauce of tomato was truly orgasmic on her taste buds, and she couldn't seem to get enough of it. "It was Moko-san, Tsuruga-san! Kanae Kotonami!"

"Ah, Kotonami-san," Ren repeated thoughtfully. "She's a small-time actress, isn't she? Will she be going for the Star Awards tomorrow?"

"I don't think so," Kyoko said. "Ever since she delivered her baby, she's been keeping away from the spotlight."

His dark eyes flickered to her again, and something about the abrupt shrewdness in his gaze nearly halted her in the midst of her chewing. But then the expression was gone as quickly as it had appeared on his face, and she wondered if she had imagined it.

"Ah. I see," was all he said.

"So, Tsuruga-san," Kyoko said hastily. She was feeling slightly nervous. Surely she must have had imagined that almost knowing look in his gaze, right? "Who else is going for the Star Awards tomorrow? I know that there'll be a lot of famous people there, the both of you told me..."

He smiled warmly. "You don't have to worry, I'll keep you safe by my side at all times, and if something comes up, I'll make sure Yashiro-san looks after you. As for who else is going…" He tilted his head to the side slightly as he mused out loud. "Almost all the well-known figures in the filming industry, I suppose. Kijima-san—most certainly yes, the President, some famous directors and producers, and of course, Momose-san…"

Kyoko tried not to let her apprehension show. While she was not foreign to the showbiz world (after all, her best friend was a small-time actress who often showed up in advertisements and commercials, as well as in occasional cameos in dramas, and her ex was a famous rock-star), this much publicity wrapped in one go was still rather overwhelming for her. Sho had never brought her as his date during his tours or any music award shows; he'd always said bluntly that she didn't quite cut it for his public image. That jerk.

She didn't doubt Tsuruga-san's word that he would take care of her (for he always had), but all the same she wondered what the other high-standing celebritites would think of her when they saw her. Kyoko wasn't even an actress, or a figure of any standing in the acting industry—this time, her sole connection to the event was Tsuruga-san, and that was it. She was going to be  _such_ a sore thumb.

Not to mention the names Ren had listed just now was entirely unknown to her.

"Who are Kijima-san and Momose-san?" Kyoko asked.

Ren put down the glass of water, long slender fingers brushing absently against the brim. "Kijima-san is a very well-known, respectable actor here in Japan. Momose-san is an actress whom I collaborated with on my last project, the Dark Moon. In fact, we were nominated for the awards for Dark Moon regarding tomorrow's show."

* * *

Kyoko lay on the soft, plush surface of the hotel King-sized bed, her copper locks pooling the silk opulent pillows. Staying in the suite of the lavish Fullor Hotel had always been an experience beyond her wildest dreams, and yet here she was, sharing one of the grandest and largest suites with her lover the night before the critically anticipated Stars Awards. It was crazy. She didn't even need to check the prices to know that a single night in the Fullor Hotel cost a  _bomb._

Not that it was night yet. In fact, it was only mid-afternoon. Ren had noticed her unusual fatigue after lunch (he was perceptive to the boot, as always, especially regarding her welfare, be it mental or physical) and had prompted that she head back to the suite for a rest before they went out for her dress fitting in preparation for the awards show. If she wasn't so alarmed about giving off unintentional tell-tale symptoms to Ren about her pregnancy (or that she was actually really exceptionally tired), she would have been rather excited about the idea of getting to try on a full-on gown later—this was about the closest thing she would ever get to living akin to the fairy tales she once so cherished and admired, after all, even though those ideas in her head had gradually shattered, torn into bitter shards. Still, when was the last time she had actually donned an evening gown? Never!

It was going to be like playing the role of a princess.

But first…

Kyoko moved her arm lethargically across the side of her bed and fumbled along the opening of her clutch, before lifting her phone out. She scanned through the screen, and then glanced at the closed timber door of the suite. Ren was currently in the opposite room (so as not to disturb her rest), no doubt discussing and making further arrangements with Yashiro-san, his manager, about the Star Awards the following day. Even now Kyoko was having trouble processing just how big and incredible the awards show was supposed to be, and that she was going be a part of it with its (undoubtedly) main highlight: Tsuruga Ren, Japan's top actor.

Momose-san and Kijima-san.

She typed the name  _Momose_  into the internet search bar on her smartphone, and then widened her eyes in shock as the resulting images poured out on display.

She was beautiful.

And even in that alone it was an understatement. Momose Itsumi was a female who had earned her spot in the showbiz industry, and rightly so. She looked the part, for one thing. Kyoko continued scanning through the images on the phone, feeling taken aback and awestruck by what she saw. The tall golden-haired woman posed for the camera exactly like someone who knew how to work it well, with her long shapely legs draped artfully over whatever she happened to be sitting on, revealing the startlingly creamy sheen of her thighs and calves. She looked ravishing and breathtakingly seductive in all her photo shoots, her large crystal blue eyes coy beneath her thick array of sooty (most likely false) lashes, her expressive mouth like delicate rosebuds. Her mane was silken gold, beautiful and shiny and flowing over her gently curved shoulders like amber satin.

This was the actress that Tsuruga Ren had so casually mentioned he had collaborated with?

Kyoko, with her heart in her mouth, typed  _Dark Moon_  into the internet.

Said heart nearly stopped.

It was a romantic drama. Why was she even surprised, really?

And to top it all, Ren and Momose Itsumi had posed for promotional shoots for the drama series, and Kyoko, still feeling distinctly as if her pulse had stopped completely, stared at the images of Ren holding the actress securely in his arms, his dark eyes tender and soft as he gazed at the female's face right beneath his. She recognized and knew that soft look. She'd seen it tons of times—the way he seemed to smile gently with his dark, dark eyes, instead of with those sensuous lips of his. That tender affection, sometimes so overwhelming that Kyoko allowed herself, in the briefest of moments, to believe it was close to  _love_.

It was how he often looked at her.

It seemed this was also how he looked at his co-stars in his films, be it on camera or even off camera. Though, as she browsed through the related articles, it seemed Dark Moon was Ren's first love drama.

But then again, why was Kyoko even shocked? Wasn't her relationship with Tsuruga Ren no different from a film, as well? A film with its own deadline, which was by the time he headed for Guam to film his (ironically) next drama, and she would then disappear, signaling the wrapping up of the little drama series that had been their relationship. And she would leave with what she had wanted from him from the very start: a child. There. The end. The curtains would come to a close by then.

Her small hand drifted to the top of her flat abdomen. So why was she so unhappy?

She didn't know why, but she kept on looking at her phone, even though every one of the photographs added more and more to her misery. There was one shoot in particular that made her heart lurch, and not in a nice way either, but she ignored the sickening sensation in her chest.

Ren was topless, clad only in long brown leather pants, and she could see the enthrallingly powerful, sleek, chiseled muscles along his naked sinuous back bared to the camera as he crouched atop the slender form of Momose lying on the ground, who was wearing nothing… but a pair of tiny lacy panties and what looked like an overlarge masculine blazer, the sides of the unbuttoned ebony silk open to teasingly flaunt the roundness of her barely hidden breasts along the center of her front. It wasn't hard to guess whose blazer it was supposed to be, with Ren topless and all. And it also wasn't hard to see that she had a lot going on in the bust area compared to Kyoko. Their faces were mere inches apart, and they gazed at each other before the camera, seemingly in an erotic world all on their own.

Biting her lips, Kyoko dropped her phone back into the clutch by the side of her bed and headed to the bathroom, feeling more tired than ever. Her footsteps were heavy and unenthusiastic on the velvet carpeted floor—her excitement about the dress-fitting later on had rapidly faded. She didn't want to play a part in this fairy tale, false and filled with deceit as it was. And it wasn't just his deceit too, it was also hers, and the knowledge was bitter and cold in her heart.

Even the place she was currently standing in was the premise of their little drama: a five-star hotel she had never ventured in, and probably would never again. Sighing, the bronze-haired girl screwed on the golden taps, and plunged her small hands into the cold chilly water that gushed out into the metal basin. She rinsed her face, needing the refreshing sensation from the water. Droplets of the crystal clear liquid landed on her chiffon dress, but she paid it no heed.

_You look very fetching in that dress, Mogami-san_.

Another deep sigh escaped her pale lips. Who was he kidding? With gorgeous women like Momose around, she looked like a dweeb in her attire. She'd probably look like a dweeb in whatever outfit she had on during the dress fitting too. Some women naturally looked like princesses, and the dress only complimented their regal appearances, bringing out and highlighting what was already there. And yet some other women—and she was sure she fell in that category—would always be plain, no matter what they wore. In some ways, she had to thank Sho for having given her a wake-up call; his constant insults and criticism towards her looks had stamped out all hopes in her to ever remotely resemble one of those beautiful stick-thin models he often had draped on his arms.

Or in Tsuruga-san's arms, either.

She ran a hand across her face, feeling uncharacteristically frustrated. When had she become so emotionally invested in all this? The petite female lowered the toilet seat, before plunking herself down onto the porcelain throne, needing a place to sit before her legs gave way on her.

She was feeling so very tired. Her eyelids was drooping, and she leaned against the cold, unforgiving wall, and closed her eyes. Perhaps the ache in her body would eventually go away…

As for her heart, she wasn't so sure.

Kyoko wasn't sure how long she had actually fallen asleep, and in the bathroom, no less, but she stirred drowsily as she eventually came to, realizing through dulled senses that she was lying back in the large bed. The softness beneath her was undeniable, but more than that, she felt warm, and not just because of the thick comforter draped atop her, either.

It was the warm long fingers laced through her hair, and the hard muscled yet overwhelmingly comforting body pressed against hers underneath the very same comforter.

"You're awake."

His baritone voice was gentle, and she shivered as she felt the deep reverberations run up the sides of her shoulder.

"Tsuruga-san?" she mumbled sleepily, her voice hoarse even to her ears.

"Yes," he murmured huskily in response, bringing her closer to him. She snuggled into him immediately, savoring the sensation of the hard planes of his chest against her shoulder. She felt comforted, protected, and at the same time the masculine warmth he radiated was making her increasingly heady.

"I'm a little worried about you," he spoke softly, dexterous fingers still laced in her hair, and they were now stirring soothingly along her scalp. "You fell asleep in the bathroom, of all places. You've been unusually tired lately."

She loved his skin. It was so warm and smooth, like ivory…

"You carried me here?" Kyoko asked drowsily, still not fully awake. What happened to the dress fitting? Weren't they supposed to go for it?

"Of course."

She pressed her head closer to his chest. She could feel his heartbeat drumming soothingly near her ear, and she cracked an eye open, realizing she had buried her face in his pectoral.

His bare pectoral.

He was topless.

Which, of course, was nothing new, Ren often undressed himself before he joined her in bed, and she had long gotten used to it, though seeing him in the nude without breaking out into a flush was still a slight challenge to her. This time, however…

Kyoko wrenched herself from him, nearly toppling over the edge of the poster bed. The memory of the Dark Moon photo shoot ripped through her mind once more.

His dark head rose, and he stared at her, looking bewildered and slightly concerned. "What's wrong?"

What was wrong? It was an interesting question indeed, since everything was wrong.

For Kyoko had become every bit an actress since the start of their relationship just as Tsuruga-san was an actor.

* * *

 

The air was charged as she stared at him, and he stared back.

For a moment within the walls of the suite, perhaps for even less than a heartbeat, no one said anything, and the silence was empty but filled with words neither of them expressed. Perhaps it was then that she should have told him the truth: that there was  _not_ supposed to be love, that she wasn't supposed to be jealous, that she had chosen to be with him for the prospect of having a child she did not intend to share, that she was not supposed to fall for him, and that somewhere along the way—or maybe from the very beginning—she had failed in that aspect. Miserably.

And then that moment passed, and Kyoko hastily slammed down the sudden urge to spill to him everything. Instead, she clutched the sides of her wrinkled dress from where she was perched by the edge of the large bed, and hurriedly began speaking to quell the awkwardness.

"I'm sorry, Tsuruga-san!" she squeaked. "I'm just—I'm a little under the weather, you see, I'm sorry, I…" She sighed tiredly, and slowly relaxed back down onto the plush white bedding of the mattress. "I didn't mean to push you away, I wasn't thinking straight, is all…"

She suddenly jerked in surprise when his slender large hand reached out and gently brushed the copper spikes of her hair.

"Come back here," Ren said calmly, still in his original position. He hadn't moved from his spot on the bed at all, other than reaching for her. His fingers curled around her smaller ones, softly tugging.

Kyoko complied slowly, letting his dexterous long fingers guide her back towards his side, the comforter rustling at her graceless movements. She tried not to look at the naked wall of sleek abdominal muscles right where the sheets pooled around his narrow waist, but focusing on those intelligent liquid dark eyes was proving to be just as daunting.

Stiffly, she said nothing as his bare arms shifted and moved to wrap themselves around her small shoulders, before pulling the comforter back over her body. The warmth was more than welcoming, and she sighed slightly at the back of her throat, allowing her stiff body to ease.

She wanted to say something to break the silence, though. He hadn't showed much of a reaction to her weak attempt of an explanation just now, and it made her increasingly uncomfortable. There was no doubt that she had behaved weirdly (it was weird even to her, and that was saying something), and she felt slightly guilty for wrenching herself away from him like that with seemingly no proper explanation whatsoever.

But then again—wasn't she going to do just that to him within less than a month's time?

Kyoko bit her lip. It was fine. Ren wouldn't care… and why would he? With so many breathtaking (not to mention more than willing) women around like Momose in the showbiz world, it was, probably to him, like letting go of a troublesome pebble in exchange for several diamonds. In fact, what Kyoko wanted to know was what he was thinking, choosing this pebble even now, having had so many diamonds in the past. She wasn't sure if he'd dated Momose for real before off-screen (with an intimate photo shoot like that, along with the romance drama, did he truly not feel anything for her beyond the professionalism of their relationship?), but she knew that he had genuinely been with other models and actresses before, and those women of the latter had beauty to rival Momose's as well.

Kyoko squeaked in surprise when a long finger tipped her chin, bringing her face up to look into his. His obsidian eyes were narrowed.

"You're doing it again," he said.

"Doing w-what?" she stuttered nervously.

"Going off into your own world again," he answered simply, eyes still narrowed on her. His other arm remained wrapped around the thin curve of her bare shoulders, and she suddenly felt very naked, despite the fact that she was still wearing her dress, and that the length of her body was covered by the comforter. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing!" Kyoko blurted impulsively.

His narrowed eyes darkened, so that she could barely tell where his irises ended and where his pupils started.

"It might interest you to know that one of the perks of being an actor," Ren said softly, and the softness belied a danger she knew not to ignore, "is that I can tell, to a small extent at least, when someone is lying to me. So do let me repeat my question. What are you thinking about?"

Kyoko stared down at the thick white comforter stretched out over her torso and legs, feeling the quiet warmth of his solid grasp around her shoulders radiate through her skin. Her heart thundered despite the muted stillness of the atmosphere, and before she knew it, the maelstrom of emotions was bubbling and rising in her throat, and when she opened her mouth, they rushed out in the form of barely coherent words all strung together.

"I'm just so worried and confused and  _scared_ ," she babbled. "The Star Awards is such a huge thing, and everyone is going to be talking about it, and the press is going to be talking about it, and everyone attending it happens to be big shots and celebrities, while I'm nothing! I'm going to be complete loser there! I don't want to put a damper to the event! If anything, I'm going to ruin Tsuruga-san's reputation by being your date, and you're obviously  _the_ star of the show, and I'm just a liability to your public image—"

"Enough," Ren said, still in the same low voice, and just as abruptly as the words had torn out of her mouth, she ceased talking.

One thing about Ren was that while he was gentle and tender and warm, he was also very frightening when he wanted to be.

He must had seen some of the fear in her expression, for his elegant features softened abruptly, and his hand moved to lift her small one, before bringing it near his face and brushing her bony knuckles against the perfect slant of his lips. She tried not to gasp; it felt as if fire was probing her sensitive skin, making her pulse erratic.

"I'm not angry," Ren said gently. "Not at you. So please don't look like that. I don't ever want you to look like that with me."

"T-Then what are you angry at?" Kyoko asked timidly.

"At what destroyed you and the remains of your self-esteem," he replied simply, voice as chilly as the cold evening air outside. She flinched. His midnight eyes met her hazel ones intently. "Allow me to guess.  _You're just a liability to my public image_. Fuwa Sho said those very words to you before?"

She flinched again, this time so violently it was impossible for anyone to miss it.

"It doesn't matter," Kyoko said hastily. "It's over now."

"Not in your heart, perhaps," he responded, just as matter-of-factly as before, and she knew that the open contempt in his tone was not directed at her, but rather at her ex. His gaze was becoming more piercing than ever, and it was hard to look away, especially after how she had, albeit indirectly, admitted to him that he had been right about Sho having used those words against her. "Or am I wrong?"

Kyoko tried to shift her hand away from his large one, feeling uncomfortably cornered, but he refused to relinquish his grip on her. "Tsuruga-san…"

He spoke, so suddenly that she ceased trying to disentangle herself from his hold.

"Firstly, you will not ruin my reputation because you are my date, and you," his eyes darkened even further, "are  _not_  nothing. And you are most definitely not a liability to my public image. Do you understand?"

There was an abrupt glow of warmth filling in her chest, and she told herself that it was  _not_  because of what he had said. No, no….

Tsuruga-san was a kind person. He always treated members of the female gender well, was gentle with them, and always made sure they never got hurt. That was what made him different from Sho, who was  _not_  known to be very tender with his women. Oh, Sho would never physically hurt them, of course (there was still a limit to his cruelty, and he wasn't  _that_ bad, loathe as she was to admit) but he was no gentleman. He was no Ren. And Ren was kind and generous to all his past lovers, and this was a well-known fact. He wasn't Japan's number one most desired man for no reason.

He was a Casanova, indeed.

It was only natural that he would try to comfort her.

"Kyoko."

It took her several seconds to realize he was calling her by her first name, and the stunned girl looked up disbelievingly, and gazed at the intent midnight eyes boring into hers.

"If anything," he went on gently, "My public image is a liability to  _you._ "

Kyoko's large hazel eyes widened. "Tsuruga-san, what—"

"I'm not a fool," Ren said simply. "I know that the nature of my occupation gives you much stress, and that you are constantly pressurized about it, fearing public attention should it ever be directed to you. That's partly the reason why you wished to keep our relationship secret, isn't that so? I know, and I am sorry, Kyoko, for all the discomfort my status as an actor has given you."

Kyoko felt her heart clench in a mix of sorrow and pain. She was the one who should be apologizing to him, not the other way round.  _Using him as her personal baby-make_ r, Kanae had said to Kyoko, rather bluntly at that. Well, the small-time actress hadn't been wrong, had she? Kyoko had done just that, even if she was certain Ren didn't love her anyway, much less be committed enough to go so far as to start a family with her (Sho had taught her that most men were commitment-phobic), but it did not change the fact that she had deceived him. He cared for her no doubt, and that in itself was tremendous to Kyoko. She wasn't a romantic fool anymore, and she knew she was probably just another in his (very long) string of lovers, but he was still a very kind person and she didn't like tricking him.

She didn't like that he was apologizing for something that utterly wasn't his fault.

She was also finding his choice of words rather alarming.  _Partly the reason_ , he had said. It was as if he knew that wasn't the whole reason why she wanted to keep their dating status quiet… as if he knew more than he let on about her little scheme.

Kyoko told herself she was simply thinking too much. There was no way Ren knew anything; she was tired, her fatigue wasn't going away despite having fallen asleep so soundly just now, and her guilt was also consuming her, making her overly suspicious of everything.

"There are some things, perhaps, that you do not yet know," he said, and she stilled. "Such as why I want to make our relationship public tomorrow. You see, the Star Awards is a very special occasion to me."

"I know, Tsuruga-san," Kyoko insisted. "I know how important it is to you."

"No, you don't," he interrupted softly, but not unkindly. She stared at him, slightly taken aback. "You don't realize how exceptional tomorrow's event is to me. The reason for that is because tomorrow is a celebration of Dark Moon, which is by far the most personal drama I have filmed, and a drama that holds immense significance to me."

Kyoko found herself immediately trying to hold back the bitter taste growing in the back of her throat. The hot, putrid jealousy was rising like foul unwanted tar inside her, and she hated its existence, hated what it signified about her own feelings towards Ren. The beautiful image of Momose Itsumi flashed back in her mind, and she forcibly shoved it away.

The sudden knock on the timber door came as a relief to Kyoko, who did not want to hear any more of what Ren had to say. Each word he had uttered was like a dagger to her skin, and she quickly jerked away from Ren at the sound of the clear, sharp knocks. Ren let her go, and his head turned in open annoyance at the door, ebony locks falling across sensuously carved cheekbones. His lips in a tight line, he rose from the satin bed gracefully and began moving in long-legged strides towards it. Kyoko was relieved to note that he was wearing long tight trousers after all, though she made sure she looked away from the bare sinuous, muscled curve of his perfect back.

He opened the door, and Kyoko caught a glimpse of Yashiro, his manager, standing outside, attired in his impeccable suit. He looked apologetic and slightly sheepish, especially at Ren's state of undress. She turned slightly and took a look outside the window: the sun was setting, the dark golden rays sinking through the exotic windowpanes, and realized with dismay that she had slept throughout the entire afternoon. Just how tired had she been?

Turning again, she could hear Yashiro speaking in urgent low tones to Ren. It was hard for her to hear exactly what he was saying, but she managed to catch a few words.

"Her manager is furious—"

Ren interrupted him swiftly. "Perhaps we can take this outside. Allow me to get dressed first."

Yashiro inclined his head, understanding sweeping across his bespectacled features as he moved away from the doorway. "Of course. I'll be waiting in the next room."

The door closed, and Ren turned, and regarded Kyoko. There was a curious glint in his midnight gaze, but then it was gone, as if it had never been there. She wondered, once more, if her imagination was playing tricks on her. And then the usual gentle look returned to his eyes, and now it was his turn to look apologetic.

"I'm sorry, Mogami-san," he said, reverting back to their usual forms of address. Already he was picking up his expensive russet sweater from where it lay draped over the mahogany bed stand, and tugging it over his dark head. She found it hard to tear her gaze away from the way his bare hard biceps shifted sleekly alongside his supple movements. "There've been quite a number of pressing matters as of late due to the event."

"Of course it's fine, Tsuruga-san!" Kyoko said hastily, still sitting on the bed. "I'm sorry I hindered your work, if anything! Speaking of which, what happened to the dress fitting, though? I'm sorry I slept so much…" She felt heat rush to her cheeks at her admission.

He smiled tenderly, still tugging lightly at his sweater. The smile made her heart do somersaults in her chest.

Once he was done dressing, the tall male approached the bed and leaned over, long fingers reaching and brushing aside a loose strand of copper hair lingering at the side of her reddened face. "Actually, I'm glad you managed to get your rest. Why don't you rest for a bit more, and then afterwards we'll go down to have dinner? The dress fitting can take place later on into the evening, after you're fully rested and eaten."

"O-okay." She smiled forcedly back at him, trying to sound as quietly assured as he was, but the traitorous flush on her face was unwavering due to his close proximity. God, she was such a  _dweeb_.

"I'll be back in a few minutes." Ren moved away at last, and strode over to the door, before opening it with a soft click. "And Mogami-san?"

"Y-yes?"

He smiled gently at her, and she felt her flush deepen. He spoke. "You didn't hinder my work." The smile turned thoughtful. "Quite the opposite, actually."

And then the door was closed, and he was gone.

* * *

"Gorgeous… Absolutely gorgeous."

Momose Itsumi smiled lightly as she looked down into her stylist's awed eyes, before glancing back at her reflection in the full-body mirror. In her mind, she could understand how her reflection could inspire such awe; the tall elegant female looking back at her from the crystal-glass mirror was the embodiment of delightful, seductive beauty.

Her shiny, luscious gold hair had been swept to her right. The glorious locks gathered and fell in a stylishly thick flow along the perfect curve down the side of her neck all the way to the generous swell of her breasts, where the dipping neckline of her strapless, provocative evening gown boldly exposed. The expensive gown itself was made of dripping sin; it was pure jet black silk, and so tight that Momose could feel it wrapped sleekly on every inch of her smooth skin. But it was absolutely worth it, for it clung to the voluptuous curves of her figure like a second raven skin, before spanning out in an ebony silk pool around her feet. And her body, as tall and slender as a model's, was no less delightful than the dress she donned, for she was someone who worked out every week, diligently maintaining the body that was the product she sold to her entertainment agency.

Momose Itsumi was no fool. Being part of this business didn't change whether you were an actor, or a model, or a singer, or a television personality. One thing was most important: you had to look the part. You could have little to no talent in whichever aspect of the showbiz world you were in, but if you could sell yourself well, then that was all that was needed to rise in the business. Members of the entertainment industry were exactly as indicated: they were entertainers. Momose personally knew some other actresses whose flair for acting left much to be desired, but they had the ability to leave the ratings of their shows sky high.

She smiled, red lips rising.

It was all about being good at posing the part rather than working hard at the part. That was the trick.

Her smile abruptly faltered when another thought came to her mind.

Tsuruga Ren.

That man was different, however. He sold himself well, and he did and worked well in his part.

No one could deny his talented abilities in acting.

Her scarlet lips tightened slightly at the persistent thought of him. Her heavily mascaraed eyes drifted to a close, the dark curled lashes a striking contrast to her pale skin. She opened her eyes again, and took a deep breath, still looking at her mirror. The extravagant rubies gleaming from her ears and neck were a deep red, bringing out the glamour of her equally red lipstick.

"Of course she's gorgeous," another voice scoffed. Momose recognized her manager, Fuji Yuki's voice. "She was just named third in the Top Ten Sexiest Women in Japan for this year. This is from the Tokyo Times newsletter, no less!"

"Fuji-san," Momose admonished softly.

"I'm not wrong, am I?" Fuji said, smiling in satisfaction from where she stood not far from the actress. "It's good that you're modest, which is the kind of image that you need to show your fans, but there's nothing to worry about right here in our privacy. You deserve to acknowledge the rise in popularity you're currently having now."

"It was Dark Moon, isn't it?" The stylist wanted to know, as she made the final adjustments to the gown. "That was Momose-sama's breakout drama."

Momose said nothing for a short while, glancing into the mirror. It was true. Her previous dramas had done well, but they hadn't been an incredible ratings hit, even when she was playing the leading roles. She had always been known as a well-performing actress, but her popularity had never met the feverish pitch that was Tsuruga Ren's or Hidehito Kijima's.

Not until this year.

Another pause followed.

"Come on here for a bit," Fuji stated, beckoning the actress to a small round table near the door. "We have a few more minutes before we head out. I need to talk to you for a bit."

"Alright," Momose said, even though she had a pretty good idea what her manager was going to talk to her about. She glided from the front of the mirror to the table, her black stilettos moving gracefully against the carpeted floor, the hem of her gown swishing in a whip of silk. The stylist began clearing her things away.

"What is it?" Momose asked, lowering herself onto her seat, making sure she left no creases on the gown. The chandelier ruby earrings hanging from her ears swung daintily.

"How many awards has Dark Moon been nominated for tonight?" Fuji said abruptly in response, folding her arms over the front of her impeccable pantsuit. Momose noticed a bowl of grapes sitting on the table, and she took one out and popped it in her red mouth, more for a distraction than anything. "Was it eight? Nine?"

"It's thirteen," the actress replied warily, even though she knew that her manager knew the answer better than she did. Whatever reason Fuji was asking her this question for, it wasn't because she didn't know the answer to it.

"Thirteen," Fuji repeated clearly. She took a grape herself, before slowly sliding it through her lips. Just like everything she did, she chewed it with precision, and with unhurried deliberation. "Your past dramas didn't even get nominated for half of them for the Star Awards. You know that, don't you?"

Momose smiled softly. "Yes, I know."

"Dark Moon is your hit project, and you know it!" Fuji fired at her. "Ever since Dark Moon aired, things in Tokyo have been going crazy! Job offers are appearing at every corner for you, there've been more fan meetings arranged than ever before, magazines are publishing articles about you and Tsuruga Ren non-stop, and you've been invited for more interviews than I can count! More importantly, you and Ren—the top actor in Japan—have been called the Golden Couple by fans and the press alike!"

"I know that, Fuji-san," Momose said.

"Do you know why your popularity has skyrocketed this far?" Fuji demanded. "You're a brilliant actress, but for some reason you've only been recognized as one this year. Do you know why?"

"Because," Momose said in a gentle whisper, "I collaborated with Tsuruga Ren."

"That's right," Fuji said. She was holding onto another grape, but she didn't eat it, but simply tightened her fingers over the tiny fruit. "Your acting talent is incredible, Momose, and you know it. Tsuruga Ren was your opening to showcase that. And you know what, Momose?" She stared straight into the actress's baby blue eyes, hooded by the gorgeous curve of black mascaraed lashes. "You'll always be known as the first. No matter how many romance dramas Ren should act in in the future, no matter how many more actresses he could collaborate with, you will always be the first. It's because Dark Moon is Ren's first romance drama, and you are the first. I don't care how many dramas he's been in before, but this is his first romance drama, and everyone knows this."

Momose said, "Fuji—"

"So don't you ever undermine yourself," her manager interrupted fiercely. "Tonight is Dark Moon's night. It's supposed to be the night that belongs to the both of you: you, Japan's supposed-to-be next top actress, and Ren, Japan's top actor. It's the Golden Couple's night. So can you tell me why you're going with Kijima-kun as your date, and  _not Ren_?"

The grape in the manager's hand was reduced to soggy mush in her fingers.

Bitterness suddenly welled up in Momose's chest, but she forced it away. "You know why, Fuji-san. He rejected me."

She was sure the manager had no idea how much admitting that fact hurt her; that it hurt her much more than it could ever hurt Fuji.

The manager stuffed the grape into her mouth, and then wiped her hands on a tissue from a tissue box offered by the stylist.

"I don't think you understand how important this is, Momose," Fuji said, more calmly this time. "Fans have gone mad seeing the romantic chemistry onscreen between the Golden Couple on Dark Moon. Imagine the madness that would ensue if they found out the Golden Couple was official off-screen as well. That what they've admired in fiction is finally happening in reality. Imagine the news that Tsuruga Ren and Momose Itsumi are dating off camera. Imagine the amount of publicity you've been getting… and imagine it double the amount it is now."

Momose looked down at her perfectly manicured hands, and uttered the words automatically from her lips. "You're just asking me to pull off a publicity stunt."

"Your career is one publicity stunt altogether," Fuji said bluntly. "Don't be naïve, Momose. You know it isn't just about his or her ability that makes a star popular. You should know this better than anyone. Why else haven't you been recognized for your brilliant acting until this year, where you began acting with the most famous man in Japan?"

"This isn't the point," Momose said with uncharacteristic frustration. "You think I don't want him? He doesn't want me!"

Fuji studied the flawless planes of the actress's face for a moment. "Are you sure that's the truth? All that intensity in the romance on Dark Moon… all that was truly as it is… an act?"

There was a short pause.

"It seemed so real," Momose said softly, and she slumped against her chair, a motion completely uncharacteristic of the normally graceful actress. Her crimson jewelry glowed undeterred underneath the amber glow from the ceiling lights. "You remember when he was facing difficulties in the beginning on set? When he couldn't seem to get himself together into playing Katsuki well, specifically the romance parts?"

"I remember," Fuji spoke carefully. "And then there was that change suddenly."

"Yes," Momose answered. Her gaze was distant. "I'd never seen anything like it. It was like he had completely fallen in love with me—I mean, with my character," she corrected herself quickly. "But it was so real, so genuine, so raw. It was…" She shook her golden head. "It was unbelievable. It blew me away. But I suppose that's why he's the best actor here."

"I don't think it was just acting," Fuji said slowly. "I think something happened, Momose. An inspiration, shall I say?"

Momose looked at her manager for a mute moment.

"And should I also say…" Her manager continued, her eyes unnaturally large. "That you were that inspiration?"

The actress had to struggle to hide the gleam of hope from showing on her face. It took every ounce of her acting experience to do that, and she kept her voice neutral as she answered. "That's ridiculous, Fuji-san. Why did he reject me then?"

"I'm not going to lie to you," Fuji responded briskly, leaning back against her chair. "I really don't know why he rejected you as his date tonight, especially for such an important night. But it's possible…" She tapped her chin with her French nails. "It's a publicity stunt, of sorts."

"That's crazy," Momose said incredulously. "Going with someone who's not his co-star on Dark Moon for the Star Awards? How is that a stunt?"

"You just said it," Fuji stated matter-of-factly. "People are going to talk, aren't they, when they find out about this? This is news too."

"But that's just so…" Momose shook her head again, her curled lashes blinking confusedly against her smooth skin. "Tsuruga-san doesn't seem like the kind of person who would do that."

"You trust people too much, Momose!" Fuji snapped. "Do you know what makes Tsuruga Ren so famous? It isn't just his acting abilities, my dear. You think he would never do something as lowly as pulling publicity stunts, do you? Well, that's exactly it. He pulls off stunts while playing the persona of a trustworthy, hardworking actor. He's acting even when he's not acting. That's his secret, Momose, and I think you should learn from that."

Momose bit her lip, and then quickly stopped herself. The last thing she wanted to do was mess up her makeup, even though her stylist was probably going to add the final touches on the way there in the car.

"Also, I've done research on his date for tonight," Fuji concluded.

She perked up. "Are you serious? I thought he hid her identity well!"

Fuji laughed. "Yes, it is true Ren has been very protective of his date's privacy. He's made clear orders to his management that nothing about her privacy is leaked to the media. He's been surprisingly protective, I'll give him that. But I have my sources. Do you know what I found out?"

Momose leaned forward eagerly by the edge of the table. "Who is it?"

"I don't know who she is, but I did find out this: she's not from this business."

"What?" The actress blinked. That was unexpected; Ren might be a known playboy, but he never ventured with anyone outside of the showbiz world. He'd dated actresses, some models, occasionally a singer, and even once he'd been with a female producer. But this… "Well, I suppose there's always someone new for him. Is she a famous lawyer or something? Or a doctor?"

"No, Momose, that's the shocker," Fuji said, lowering her voice and glancing at the stylist, who had pulled up another chair a couple of minutes ago into their conversation, and was also listening. "She's not famous. She's not famous for anything at all, not even for anything outside of the entertainment business. She doesn't seem to have any money if I'm not wrong, and she's not even really a looker, I heard. She's just a… common person."

Both the stylist and Momose stared in shock at her manager.

"That's ridiculous," the stylist said scornfully. "How can that be? Was she his fan, or something? Maybe she's Tsuruga Ren's sympathy date, as a treat to a fan or something."

"No, she wasn't his fan," Fuji replied quietly. "I have no idea how they met."

Momose's red-nailed hands tightened into a small fist, and her usually gentle voice had hardened with hurt. "Ren rejected me… for her?"

Her manager reached over and pressed her hand over the actress's curled one. "That's why I'm telling you, Momose, don't you give up. If things are true like I heard, then you still stand a chance. You need this chance. This is too good to miss out on, and it's not just for the sake of your career. It would be an insult to you—and the Golden Couple—if you got stood up for some common girl, isn't it?"

* * *

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a flashback somewhere in between this chapter. It might seem out of nowhere, but it is important. To be honest, this is technically two chapters in one chapter, so please be aware of that! Hm, and that should be about it. Please let me know what you think, and I thank everyone who read this fic!

 

Hidehito Kijima, Momose reflected, was quite an interesting character.

In fact, what made him interesting (and famous) was exactly just that: Character. He had character! He was not exceptionally attractive, he was not exceptionally good at acting, he was not exceptionally charismatic, but he had  _character._  And it was precisely this character he had that made him shine and made people notice him. Now, this was very important for one if one belonged to the entertainment industry. This year would mark the tenth year since Kijima had joined show business, and throughout this time his fame had not waned, but had rather steadily thrived. People welcomed him on the big and small screen alike, and the headlines were constantly on the move regarding his affairs, be it private or public.

This was not to say, however, that he was as famous as Tsuruga Ren. This, though, was also not shocking, since there was no actor alive in Japan right now who had ever achieved the kind of feverish pitch of fame Ren had received since his debut. This was because unlike Hidehito Kijima, Ren didn't just possess character; he also was exceptionally attractive, was exceptionally good at acting, and was exceptionally charismatic. He most certainly shone and made people notice him.

Which was probably why he was all Kijima talked about for the past half an hour since Momose had joined him in the limousine on the way to the Star Awards.

"I'm not going to ask you questions, don't worry," he was saying, reclining on the seating of the car, looking relaxed. Dressed in a rich black tuxedo, he looked very smart and charming, and she had to admit that Kijima always looked the part of the veteran actor that he was. "Ren's business is his own, and as a fellow celebrity I understand this concept all too well, similarly for myself—" Of this fact Momose wasn't sure, as Kijima was one who reveled in the spotlight and hardly ever hid his personal life from the public. "—I can't say the same for the press, unfortunately. I really hope he knows that he'll be getting a lot of flak from them—and his fans—when they find out later that he's going to the awards with a date that isn't you. The Golden Couple is a really big thing that's been circulating around right now, after all, and fans are going to expect what they want."

Momose looked at him apologetically from where she, too, sat poised on the expensive leather seat of the limousine. The air conditioning of the sleek, luxurious the car was on an all-time high, and she thanked the heavens for the large mink wrap she had wrapped around her.

"I'm really so sorry, Kijima-kun," she smiled softly. "But even if you ask me anything, I truly can't help you. I'm every bit in the dark as you are on who Tsuruga-san's date is. But we'll find out later, I'm sure."

Kijima grinned at her. His gaze on the curves of her body was a teensy bit too appreciative that was appropriate, but she didn't mind. With the revealing black gown she was wearing, along with her exquisitely made-up face and polished ruby jewelry, she was bound to attract entranced stares from all around her. The chauffeur of the limousine had stared at her too, when opening the door to let her in.

"I'm not complaining, oh no," he chuckled. "Ren's the idiot who is missing out. Thanks to him, I get to reap the goods here!"

She laughed good-naturedly, letting her cheeks go a little pink at his compliment. She wasn't uncomfortable with his open appreciation with her appearance. She was getting used to this appreciation, after all. Attention was something that was becoming very common to her ever since she had filmed the hit drama that was Dark Moon. She welcomed attention, she supposed, though not to the extent that it made her arrogant. How could she feel proud when she was not even receiving the attention from the man she truly wanted to get it from?

"Speaking of which, though," Kijima began suddenly, appearing interested. "There've been rumors that our fellow Ren has found someone new. About time, I should say."

Her laughter faded gently.

"Oh, but surely," she said, her voice deceptively careless, "those are baseless rumors."

"I don't think so," Kijima said seriously. "I mean, yes, I do agree that it's a bit… strange, since Ren doesn't usually hide his lovers. It's true he's extremely private outside of his work, but he's always been straightforward on whom he's dating. Besides, his past girlfriends have always been more than excited to let people know they're dating him, even without him saying it. They love the publicity."

Momose paused, trying to suppress the squirm of discomfort at the memory of what her manager had discussed with her mere hours ago. She quickly shrugged the feeling aside, not allowing it to surface in her expression.

"Well," she said, "Perhaps he's being quiet because there really isn't anyone to mention in the first place."

Kijima picked up an iPad from the side of the black tinted window of the limousine, and turned it on, before moving his fingers across the screen deftly. She watched him curiously, wondering what was going on. A few minutes later, he passed her the electronic device, and Momose saw that a video was being played. He had fast forwarded it into some time halfway, and gingerly she peered closer at the screen.

It was an interview with Ren, on some celebrated talk show. She knew the host, of course. In fact, she herself had once been invited to make an appearance in this very talk show, though that was about a few months back. The talk show was a very famous one, and Momose felt surprised that she wasn't made aware of this interview until now, especially with the huge number of viewer hits this viral video had made online. But then again, she had been so busy as of late, and her manager—who saw everything—must had seen this and chosen not to tell her about it.

She watched the video.

The talk host was leaning forward eagerly in his armchair, addressing Ren who sat opposite him. The interview had already started a good way back, and Kijima had fast forwarded a couple of minutes into it. "Word around town, my friend," the host said, "is that you're dating again. We're talking about Japan's top ladies' man here, who has been single for the past one year as of late. Is it true that you've finally gotten some rain from the drought?"

Momose felt her heart flip slightly as she looked at Ren, lounging in his seat like a lazy large feline. Dressed in a loose long dark cardigan over his broad shoulders, he looked casual yet gorgeous. His dark eyes, at that moment, were alit with polite amusement.

"The press has always been immensely interested in my love life," he said languidly, appearing rather unruffled, as though he had expected the question. And he probably had. Momose's traitorous heart did another mad flip in her chest at the deep, rich sound of his voice, and she fought the urge to flush. Kijima was right next to her, and the last thing she wanted to do was to let him on how she was actually feeling. "More interested, sometimes, than in my acting."

"Well, can you blame us?" The talk show host laughed good-naturedly. "The people want to know if Japan's number one bachelor is off the markets, and yes, that includes us boys, to know whether we still actually stand a chance with the ladies—" Laughter sounded from the audience. "—so come on, can't you throw me a bone here? We all just want to know if you're taken! Everyone here can keep a secret, so don't worry!"

More laughter ensued from the audience, and Ren's amusement remained.

Once the laughter died down, he finally spoke again, this time seemingly more serious. His dark eyes looked thoughtful.

"When the right time comes," he murmured serenely, "I will let you know."

The talk host shot forward in his seat like he had been electrified, his eyes widening in excitement behind large horn-rimmed glasses. He looked as though he had stumbled across a gold mine. And he most likely had, Momose thought. Ren's matter-of-fact response was already causing a stir in the audience, judging from the high volume of noise they were making.

"The right time, you say? So there  _is_  someone!" The host proclaimed triumphantly, practically quivering in eagerness in his chair. Turning to face the audience (and the camera), he went on to announce his next statement.

"You heard it here first! Tsuruga Ren has found someone new, though he's still keeping mum about it!"

The audience was screaming and cheering at his words, and Momose caught sight of several of its members as the camera directed itself to them—the young girls especially—shrieking their heads off and clutching each other from the rows of seats they were situated in.

It took a while before the screams died down slightly, and the camera moved back into focus at Ren, who remained calmly seated in his armchair opposite the host, his dark brows raised with entertainment. It was hard to tell how he was taking this, and yet Momose felt perturbed that he wasn't bothering to deny what the host had said (though he hadn't exactly confirmed it either). Her mind flashed back to what Fuji had said about his companion tonight at the Awards—that she was a mere civilian outside of the entertainment business.

_Was Ren really dating her?_

"Congratulations, man," the host said, once the noise had gone down somewhat. "Really, congratulations."

Ren simply smiled and said nothing.

"I know you won't say who the lucky girl is, though it's alright if I make a few guesses, isn't it?" the host went on genially. "You won't have to say it, but I think we all know-"

"I highly doubt this is a guess you are able to make," Ren said gently.

Momose inhaled sharply. Her suspicion about what her manager had told her just now was rapidly growing. Surely this was impossible? Ren had always been one who was surrounded by beautiful models and actresses; what was he doing with a normal civilian, who, according to Fuji, had nothing special going on, neither in her looks nor career nor family background? Highly successful men like Ren would only be doing charities by striking up a relationship with her.

But then again, Ren was the sort of man who would do that sort of charity. He was kinder than anyone she knew.

"Oh, but I think I can," the host said cheerfully. "The Golden Couple, anybody?"

This brought about another wave of applause and cheers from the audience, and she thought that some of the young girls amongst the audience would probably lose their voices later from the way they were screaming. Even now, the exuberance from the adolescent teenage girls in Ren's fanbase still startled her.

She made sure, then, to avoid looking at Kijima from beside her as the screams went on for a couple more seconds in the video, before slowly going down.

Ren had spoken.

"Miss Momose is someone whom I've had the great fortune to meet," he stated courteously. "She is a wonderful acquaintance and a great friend—if I may have the privilege of being her friend—but our relationship is a solely professional one."

Suddenly Momose was beginning to realize why Fuji had concealed this video from her, if the tightness of her chest was any indication.

"Of course, of course," the host was saying slyly. "At least it'll seem so until the 'right time', as you said so yourself, right?"

"There is no such thing as a right time, I'm afraid," Ren responded, his perfectly shaped dark brows curved sardonically, "in regards to herself and I."

"I see," the host said, though it was hard to tell if he—or the audience—really saw. In any case, Momose could see the host was about to change the subject. She didn't blame him. There was something oddly final in Ren's tone of voice, though he had remained every bit as polite and cordial as before. It was enough, though, to intimidate the host not to press any further.

"Still, you've been single for a really long time," the host continued. "For someone who has been in many relationships, a whole year of being single must be quite something! Is it because you wanted to take a break from dating? For I know there's no such thing as a  _lack_ of women who want you—"

"On the contrary," Ren said graciously, his perfect lips upturned in a curious smile, "there was someone I wanted throughout that time, but couldn't have."

"Oho!" the host said incredulously. "Is there such a thing?"

Ren smiled again, moving his dark head gracefully. "You flatter me," he said. "But yes, there is most certainly such a thing. That someone was in a relationship with another person, as it happens."

" _Was?_ " the host echoed. "So you nailed her, didn't you?"

Ren laughed; a rich, glorious baritone sound.

"When the right time comes," he drawled slowly, almost teasingly, "I will let you know."

Momose, still watching the interview intently, jumped lightly when Kijima moved over and took the iPad away from her manicured hands suddenly. A reckless part of her wanted to complain and try to grab it back—she wanted to see the rest of the talk (even though Ren didn't seem keen to reveal any more than he already had)! But Kijima was frowning now, and she couldn't fathom why. And then it hit her all of a sudden, in that lightning moment, as she realized why Kijima had even showed her this video regarding Ren's interview.

This wasn't just gossip, doubtless as it might have seemed to be. Kijima, a well-known older actor himself and being good friends with Ren, was naturally very interested in his friend's affairs, and thus it did appear normal for him to gossip a little about his enormously famous acquaintance. But Kijima did seem a little too interested at the moment.

She glanced out of the heavily tinted car window, looking at the vaguely obscured streets shooting past their way. There was still quite a way to go before they arrived at the Star Awards.

Then she looked back at Kijima, her ruby earrings swinging daintily.

"Kijima-kun," Momose said softly. "Why did you show me the video?"

Kijima looked uncomfortable, and he reached his hand up to lightly touch his dark blue bow tie.

"Look here, Momose-san," he said, letting out a breath. "You're a very charming and wonderful lady, and I admire you very much. What I hope at the very least is that I don't get mixed up in any… misunderstood business, if you know what I mean. Ren is a good friend of mine, and he is not the kind of man I would dream of crossing."

"Misunderstood business?"

He shrugged. "Of course. The mysterious woman Ren was clearly talking about in the interview… It… well, is it you?"

She stared at him, deeply mascaraed eyes blinking. "I thought Tsuruga-san made that very clear it wasn't." The admission was harder for her to make than she had thought.

He looked embarrassed. "My apologies. But you have to forgive me for this, because a lot of people—as you can tell from the video—came to the same conclusion as me. You see, he spoke about himself wanting a woman who happened to be in a relationship with another man at that time… and you were in a relationship with some footballer last year. And then there's this Golden Couple thing going on-"

Understanding was beginning to dawn on her.

"So I thought he was secretly dating you recently, but he didn't want to admit it yet to the media. And then I thought the two of you had a tiff or argument or something tonight, and that was why both of you came with different dates, to spite each other at the Star Awards. Why else would you not go with each other when the two of you were nominated together for so many awards on Dark Moon tonight? It was only right that you two came together. And I must admit that I felt uncomfortable knowing I might have been caught in the middle of something rather discomfiting, if you must admit, but I was greatly charmed by you and—"

She continued staring at him.

Kijima had no idea, she supposed, that she dearly wished how much he had said was true. But the fact was, she was  _not_ dating Ren, had barely communicated with him even (aside from having some interviews together in regards to promoting Dark Moon, as well as shooting some commercials together) and all in all it was saddening. He was always friendly and kind to her, but he had never shown any non-platonic indication of pursuing her outside of work. It occurred to her then, that according to what Ren said, the  _civilian,_ not her, _might have been in another relationship with someone else before._

She shut the idea out as soon as it came to her.

Kijima was still talking, and yet she could tell he was greatly relieved. "I showed you the video because I was suspicious, and I wanted to see your reaction. But if you say it isn't true, then it most likely isn't true—"

"Kijima-kun," Momose said firmly, "It isn't true. I know it seems strange that we, as the Golden Couple—as the press so calls us, anyway—aren't together as dates at the event show, but we are truly only co-stars. There isn't a misunderstanding, and you aren't caught up in anything that might put you in an uncomfortable position."

Kijima relaxed. "Well, I see. I'm really sorry for the whole thing, I truly am—"

"However," she went on, tugging at her mink wrap daintily with long nails, "there is also no way Tsuruga-san is dating this woman whom he is bringing to the Star Awards."

Kijima looked curious. "Why not?"

Momose turned her elegant golden head back to the car window, and spoke with more force that she had intended to show.

"Because I heard from my manager that she is only just a civilian. Nothing more. A man of Tsuruga Ren's standing and success can't possibly fall for someone so... opposite. It is, forgive me, rather absurd."

He stared at her wonderingly. "Could it be… Momose-san…you—?"

* * *

The crowd was insane.

Momose, her bare arm hooked alongside Kijima's reassuring one, waved with her other arm at the thick knots of people lining the sides of the red carpet. Behind them, the limousine swept away. Photographers and paparazzi were literally swarming around the couple like bees to honey, the camera bulbs flashing in a blinding glow as they followed the pair along the red carpet while snapping photos of them all the way. The noise was deafening; people were talking all at once, some were cheering, and some were simply making incoherent noises at the sidelines. Somewhere in the front were other celebrities, dressed expensively and chatting with reporters and fellow celebrities alike.

The Star Awards was truly a huge and lavish affair.

Momose smiled, and posed as several cameras went off at once, surrounding her in all angles. She knew she looked amazing in her strapless black gown, for at that moment since she had stepped down from the limousine with a graceful turn of her stilettos she was all the crowd could look at. Kijima, who looked no less charming in his tux, was busy answering questions of his own from some of the hungry reporters, and she had to contend with her own as well.

The questions were like bullet fire, though fortunately she was used to it. "Where is Tsuruga Ren? Why are the two of you not together tonight? Is tonight not Dark Moon's night for the Golden Couple?"

"Tonight is Dark Moon's night, indeed," she said, smiling in a way only her years as an actress allowed her to. "I'm very happy to be a part of this and be able to promote Dark Moon tonight, and I'm sure Ren is too, when he comes later—"

"But why are the both of you not here as dates? There's been a rumor around that the two of you have been actually dating off-screen, but trying to keep it low-profile for some reason?"

Momose's red lips smiled coyly once more, and she looked very much like a naughty seductress then, with the golden curls of her silky hair laid out across one side of her hugely exposed breasts. The flash of the camera went off then, illuminating the gorgeous features of her face. "This wouldn't be the right time for me to disclose such things! All I can say is that Ren and I are very good friends, and I'm glad to be able to have worked with someone of his caliber in this business."

And then Kijima was tugging her arm slightly, and she followed, sauntering alongside him like a model on the catwalk, despite the fact that she was secretly hoping to get to the end of the red carpet as soon as possible, where the other celebrities were. There were still other reporters, there, oh yes, but at least the bulk of the press was gathered at the length of the red carpet. There should be roughly around half an hour more before everyone could gather inside at the main hall, and then to the theatre seating where the Awards was to take place.

Kijima stopped suddenly in his step, and she nearly stumbled, so caught unaware was she by his abrupt halt. Catching herself, and making sure that her hourglass black gown had not suffered damage, she turned back to look at Kijima, her heavily made up blue eyes slightly annoyed. He nodded at where he was looking, though, and she followed the direction of his scrutiny, towards the opposite side of where they were heading.

Another limousine—white, instead, rather than black, as was most of the limousines—had made its appearance by the front of the red carpet, and almost at once reporters swarmed in, their cameras raised and their knees bent to capture the perfect angle of the newest celebrity couple who were no doubt inside the sleek vehicle.

The door opened, and screams resounded all around them as Tsuruga Ren appeared, flanked by his manager and bodyguards. This was rather surprising, for he was not known for having bodyguards.

Momose had to swallow hard as she looked at his tall, gracefully intimidating figure, dressed elegantly in a white Armani suit. Even his long dexterous fingers were gloved an exquisite white from where he held the car door languidly. The pale color of his regal attire was a startling yet delicious contrast to the dark of his piercing eyes and dark glossy swept hair. His features were truly perfection, she thought. His marble cheekbones were high and carved aristocratically, and his lips were slightly curved in a small smile, midnight eyes flashing. He looked like a figure which had come alive from amongst the Greek Gods.

She was not the only one who thought that way, for many females from the crowd surrounding them were screaming, their voice piercing in ecstasy. The cameras were flashing already, the shutters slamming. The screams were becoming coherent, and it took her a moment to realize what the crowd was chanting.

"The Golden Couple!  _The Golden Couple_!"

Kijima looked skeptical. "I wonder how his date feels about this when she hears that."

"She's not coming out of the car," Momose observed, making sure she kept her own derisiveness out of her voice. "Is she afraid? I guess for someone who doesn't belong to this business, it must be very daunting for her."

Kijima shook his head. "I respect Ren, but what is he thinking? If your manager is right, bringing a non-celebrity here is a big mistake. This isn't easy, you know."

A few seconds passed, and even the reporters were lowering their cameras quizzically, before exchanging glances with each other. Some celebrities behind Momose and Kijima were murmuring under their breaths, and meanwhile the crowd's repeated rants on the words " _Golden Couple_ " were getting louder and louder.

Momose chanced a glance at Ren. He wasn't looking at the reporters surrounding him, or even making a response to what the crowd was screaming, even though it was impossible for him not to hear the words echoing around the great foyer. Instead, his unwavering, calm dark gaze was directed to the interior of his car from where he held the door. She felt a twinge of disappointment, but hid it behind her impassive façade. Whoever had signed up as his date for the Awards show was most certainly in for a tough time tonight. This was only the beginning, after all.

And then he suddenly moved the door back further, and the Dark Moon actress widened her crystal blue eyes in disbelief as a long pale leg appeared into view. Platform heels landed on the ground briskly as a rather petite woman appeared out of the light-colored vehicle, her matching white outfit flowing in graceful cadence behind her as she moved.

The crowd suddenly fell silent, their screams fading away, and even the cameramen seemed to have stilled in that single heartbeat.

She was dressed in what looked like a creamy white thigh-length pencil dress that fit her curves snugly. While Momose had gone for a completely strapless design on her black evening gown, Ren's date wore a long-sleeved dress that ended at her thighs, though when she turned slightly Momose was shocked to see a huge diamond-shaped gap cut artistically along the milky-white material on the small of her back, baring her lovely skin underneath. Her dress was rather unusual as well, for from where her small waist tapered in and her hips swelled, a long somewhat see-through thick lacy veil flowed from around the circular waistline of her tight dress all the way to the dark red of the carpet beneath her feet.

She seemed almost ethereal.

Her copper hair was not long, and was casually done up in a small messy bun at the nape of her slender neck, and Momose saw that there was a white rose glowing from amongst the soft wavy locks framing the sides of her cheeks. Her make-up, as well, was not heavy, though her lashes were very long. Her eyes looked huge on her small face, unblinking and cool and yet also slightly tired. While Momose had gone for matte red as her lipstick, the woman's lips were a glossy pink, making her mouth look very small and luscious. She looked, Momose thought, like an innocent flower compared to her own seductive chose of wear.

She was also very beautiful.

Momose glanced at Kijima beside her.

He appeared absolutely dumbfounded.

Surely this could not be the civilian Fuji had spoken about?

* * *

They had been together for a month.

A month is not long, but it was long enough that they got to celebrate certain occasions with each other. Throughout the past month since she had moved into his home to live with him, they had celebrated a few special occasions together as a couple, away from the public eye and the pesky cameras which were a central part of Ren's career.

There had been two most … _memorable_  (for lack of a better word) occasions during their past month together, and not in a necessarily good way.

The first occasion was when Ren had been away an entire afternoon at another cinematic awards' show (the show was, however, nowhere as big as the Star Awards show, the latter of which had been held annually for several past consecutive decades and remained to be Japan's most influential and prestigious ceremony every year, in celebration for both productions of the small and big screen) and Kyoko, who had stayed at home—his lavish home technically—and watched the awards event unravel on television, had thus witnessed the inevitable moment where her lover had won every award in which he had been nominated for. The awards then were for a critical box office success of a movie he had starred in that had been released a while back.

Kyoko wasn't even surprised, though she did feel rather awed. She'd only started dating him for a few weeks back and he had already won the first of many awards to come since their relationship had commenced.

Before they had dated she had heard of Tsuruga Ren, of course, since he was a very huge household name around the globe and it was impossible not to have known of him, but other than that she'd never really expressed much interest in his person, though she had secretly noticed that he was a very attractive actor. Back then Kyoko had been besotted with Sho—the biggest mistake of her life, as it seemed—and there was no other man then who could have held her attention for more than a minute.

At least until she'd seen Sho with that beautiful model-actress—with breasts twice her own size, of course—in a very passionate lip-lock.

That was a memory responsible for a great deal of change in her life; a change that no longer welcomed men to ever revisit her lonely heart, and which welcomed the idea of a solitary world that would consist of just her and the child she had desired for so long, to substitute for her loneliness.

It was unfortunate that the latter could not work without the former.

And yet the strange thing was that any thoughts about having a child had not been on Kyoko's mind at all when she had texted Ren that day, asking him to invite Yashiro-san over for dinner tonight, where she would be cooking up something delicious for both of them as a form of congratulations about Ren's incredible achievement. At that moment, she did not notice it, but she had completely forgotten about her elaborate and desperate scheme from the very beginning on having Ren father the child she had secretly wanted, before leaving him as soon as she could once she had achieved her goal—she cared only on how deliriously happy she was for him.

It had never occurred to her what any of that could have signified.

Part of the reason Kyoko had asked Yashiro to join in that night was because he no doubt deserved a share of the credit regarding Ren's achievement, being the actor's very responsible and meticulous manager. Another part of the reason was that while Kyoko knew Ren appreciated the savor of good food as much as the next person, a savor was, as so put it, enough for the male. He had never been one for dining huge amounts of food, having a ridiculously limited appetite. Kyoko, on the other hand, was determined to whip up something tasty for Ren that night, and a sumptuous meal at that. If he was unable to take in every bite offered from the rich, abundant quantity of dishes she was going to make, then she was going to ask for reinforcements to help him out. Meaning: Yashiro-san.

The meal that night had passed pleasantly enough, and she had never felt happier at the prospect that she had managed to whip up something home-cooked for him (even though she did it often enough during some evenings at home together when they didn't head outside to dine, though it was never to such a lavish extent as was the celebratory feast that night). The truth was that there was little else she could offer him. For one thing, she didn't have much money, not to mention living with him meant that she was dependent financially on him to a significant extent, and she doubted she could get him anything that he couldn't get himself. He was, after all, a famous public figure, and his vast wealth was not something to be taken upon lightly.

A cooked meal, on the other hand, was something that was made from the heart, and she was confident that it was the best that she could offer him. Kyoko had even gotten some champagne along, despite herself being quite a lightweight. She hadn't intended to drink at all (and was simply content to watch the others—who were no doubt more experienced with alcohol—enjoy the wine) until Yashiro had insisted she join him to toast for Ren.

And so the first special occasion the couple—and Yashiro—shared together passed in a delirious blur, at least to her. The last thing she remembered through a drunken stupor was herself persistently demanding the other two males for more of the wine, even though the champagne bottles were already empty, much to her intense dismay then. According to a humored Yashiro a day or so later (Ren had refused to tell her the exact happenings, more in consideration for her feelings than anything else), the celebratory dinner had ended with a firm Ren scooping her protesting—not to mention inebriated—form up from her chair and carrying her off to their bed, while Yashiro tried to clean up some of the mess she had made on the dining table in her wild but futile attempts to search for more wine. (Apparently she had even tried to undress both Ren and Yashiro in order to search for some "hidden wine bottles" they might be concealing from her.)

Until today, the mere memory—or lack of it, due to her mental blackout from the alcohol—of that first occasion still made her cringe.

The second occasion, of course, was her birthday, which had taken place less than a week from then.

She had awoken in the morning of said birthday, gasping lightly from her disrupted slumber, feeling a curiously throbbing—not to mention extremely pleasurable—heat welling up within her, and through widening, sleep-dazed eyes, realized abruptly that Ren's dark head was between her open bare legs. His equally bare muscled shoulders were bent, large hands gently lowered over her naked calves, keeping her in place.

And it was then when she finally registered a skillful, heated tongue lapping at her moist nether walls.

Kyoko let out a sound that seemed to be a cross between a gasp and a moan. Her sleepiness seemed to fade away almost at once. She was currently curled as naked as a baby on their massive bed, as a result from their intense lovemaking just the night before. It was a surprise (though in no way was it an unpleasant one) for her to awaken to see her lover still around, much less attending to her, especially in the morning. The thing was, she and Ren rarely partook in any sexual activity in the mornings—his busy schedule as Japan's top actor was one that demanded his presence early in the day, regardless of whether it was a weekend or weekday. And thus every morning he would leave their warm bed and be gone by the crack of dawn, heading for a hectic day of work.

It was not something she enjoyed, waking in an empty bedroom every morning, but it was something she understood and respected about him.

The bedroom she shared with Ren was opulent and enormously spacious, not unlike the interior of a plush hotel suite. She had heard that he had purchased this home only just last year—had purchased this glamorous three-storey modern terrace house as his own about less than a year before their relationship had started. What little neighbors he had were barely ever home. Kyoko wasn't sure about the circumstances, but it seemed the neighbors were a rich elderly couple who were always overseas. This was obviously a good thing, since Ren, despite his career, treasured his privacy deeply outside of work.

The master bedroom was, as aforementioned, huge. It was a few times bigger than Kyoko's  _living room_  back in her own home (a tiny apartment), and despite the fact that she was sharing her new room with someone, the vast space of it still awed her. Sharing the place with an intimate roommate was one thing (for even though she had dated Sho before, she was never invited to move into his own large expensive home, other than spending a few nights here and there), but getting to stay and live in such an enormous house was another thing altogether.

There was one bathroom in the master bedroom, but she never found it bothersome to have to share it—although of course, she could always use the other numerous bathrooms available within the house that were outside the room, if the call of nature was intense and the one in her bedroom was occupied at the same time, which rarely, if never, happened—as Ren was completely unlike Sho, who loved to hog the bathroom, mostly to admire himself in the mirror. Ren's bedroom was also neat and tidy, another thing that was unlike Sho, whose room looked as if a hurricane had passed through it. The singer had always bragged that he kept his room the way it was because a messy room kept his thoughts and musical muse ticking.

The bed was, naturally, the highlight and glory of the bedroom she shared with Ren: it was a king-sized double four-poster bed, and big enough for her to lie alone on the sinfully comfortable mattress with all four limbs outstretched and still not touch the edges of the bed. When she had first seen it upon moving in she had immediately been nervous, for a bed of that size and design spoke of frightening intimacy and physical joining, and shortly after that first night in the house, she had found out—in an exhausted yet utterly contented daze the following morning, not to mention that her body was adorned with love bites all over her private areas—that she was hundred percent right.

But that was why Kyoko had moved in in the first place, wasn't it? If she was to get what she wanted, that bed would serve its purpose perfectly.

She was unused, however, to spending every night in said bed since the few weeks together with Ren. While they did not make love every night, as there were some days where he came home late from work and she had already accidentally fallen asleep, having failed in her attempt to stay up to wait for him (his filming schedules sometimes took place late into the evening and ended somewhere in the middle of the night) or that she was feeling sore and tired, the fact that she was to spend consecutive nights in his bed, in his embrace, scared and thrilled her, in ways that even until now, she couldn't comprehend.

Kyoko was even more afraid that if she comprehended them, it might signify something she could never allow herself to signify.

All she wanted was a child;  _that was all._

And yet a child was the last thing on her mind this morning.

"Tsuruga-san," she gasped out, her knuckles turning white as she clutched the comforter, which lay crumpled by her side, slightly covering her abdomen. "What are you—" Her sentence was broken off by a shrill, high-pitched gasp as his dark head descended further and an almost feline tongue languorously explored the already damp folds of her naked core. Her slender, shapely legs, currently spread apart beneath his broad, powerful shoulders, shook violently.

He chuckled, and the deep vibrations seemed to echo through the dewy, scarlet petals of her delicate entrance like an electric shock. The sensitive junction between her legs tingled. She panted heavily, her fingernails digging into the soft but thick surface of their comforter. It was to her dismay when she felt his lips move away and slide downwards onto the pale creamy skin of her inner thigh.

" _Tsuruga-san,_ " she hissed out desperately, feeling the urgent heat in her womb intensify at being ignored. She could already feel the bedding beneath her become slightly wet from her dripping arousal.

He chuckled again.

"What is it you want… little one?" he murmured, nipping the soft flesh of her small thigh. His sharp teeth sank against her skin, and she inhaled forcefully at the mixture of pain and pleasure that buzzed through her nerves from the touch. He was, she knew vaguely through a rapidly growing lust-clouded trance, marking her once again, this time on her thigh.

Nothing seemed to please her lover more than marking her, as it turned out. She had not detected it at first, however. The love bites she had noticed in the following mornings after previous sessions of lovemaking were always situated near her private areas, and she easily covered them up with the clothes of her attire. It wasn't until she had been casually conversing with a few shopkeepers and retail assistants during her shopping expedition later when she noticed that they were giving her strange looks.

She had gotten home and hastily examined herself in the mirror as soon as she stepped through the door, and it had taken her several seconds after looking closer—and after looking at herself in every angle that her flexibility allowed her to attempt—to realize with some horror that the darker shade of little love bites were sneakily visible in less obvious areas (especially to even herself) on her such as the back of her neck and beneath her little jaw.

Ren's gentle but otherwise matter-of-fact words after she had confronted him rather violently about it that following evening still rang in her mind today. The markings, he had said, were meant to keep out others who came too close to her. If they were not of close proximity with her, they would not notice his markings, which were located rather inaccessibly—but if they did, then the warning was enough for them to act accordingly: they were to back off.

He had almost been  _territorial._

And it seemed she liked it more than she would admit.

" _Please,"_  Kyoko whispered then, her small hands reaching to grasp the silky raven locks of his hair. He stilled, but she could feel the sculpted lips curve into a curious smile against the now marked skin of her quivering inner thigh.

He pressed a lingering kiss to the reddened love bite, and moved his regal head, lazily dragging the sleek length of his velvet-smooth tongue across the creamy flesh of her thigh all the way to the slippery, throbbing folds that were the eager entryway of her womanhood, making her shudder uncontrollably. His long dexterous fingers reached out, and gently caressed the dark thatch of pubic curls—the curtains did not match the drapes, evidently—adorning her feverish arousal. Lifting one of her legs over his the taut, muscled curve of his shoulder, he leaned forward once again, his talented tongue dancing across her swollen labia, and she cried out in carnal bliss.

His tongue—experienced as it was—pushed deeper into her pulsing femininity and easily located her clit, and she found herself arching her back on the bed, copper hair pooling the pillows, and wailing as he flicked unapologetically at the blood-filled bud peeking through the pink, soaked walls of her dripping nectar. The small mounds of her naked breasts rose and fell harshly as she drew breath to wail out further in her rapture.

It was a good thing that his house was sound-proof, and that his neighbors were barely home as it was.

His white teeth expertly scraping against the sensitized, vulnerable pearl amongst the plump crimson folds of her moist honey proved to be her undoing; her lips parted to let out a silent scream this time, and the entirety of her miniature, frail frame tensed like a strung bow before giving way and writhing in an unbridled, fierce orgasm along the crumpled white comforter. He held her trembling legs protectively in order to make sure she did not hurt herself, while pressing a lasting kiss on her labia, feline tongue casually lapping away at the sudden squirt of juices emitted from her core. His eyes had darkened as he made love to her with his lips.

Kyoko had barely recovered from the earth-shattering release when she felt his hands on her legs shift away, and then a long slender finger entering and stretching out her tight passage, while another finger reached and rubbed her pulsating nub, the callouses of his skin stimulating her clit. The sodden opening of her womanhood was still hypersensitive and quivering in aftershocks from her first orgasm that she felt herself giving a choked, incoherent shriek of her lover's name as the second rapidly followed. The burning pleasure was so intense that her vision was momentarily blinded, and her mind seemed to shut down—the only decipherable thought that remained in her head was  _Ren…_

Kyoko wasn't sure how long she took to regain her senses. It could have been just as easily a few minutes as it could have been a few hours.

Her eyelids slowly opened (she wasn't even aware that she had squeezed them shut), and they felt wet with mild tears. Her vision took a few seconds to get back into focus; she breathed heavily as her drumming heart gradually calmed down in her chest, and she was somewhat aware that the fine bones of her body seemed to have been reduced to mush on the soft bed, making her sleepy and slightly disorientated.

It was then that she realized Ren had moved; he had risen from his initial position at the foot of the bed—where he had been between her legs—and was now languidly lounging directly beside her on the bed, his elbow resting on the white pillows, his face close to hers. Recognizing the piercing dark cognac eyes watching her, she instantly flushed a fiery red, especially when he reached over and stroked the side of her colored cheek with long, lingering fingers.

His adroit digits felt slightly moist; her blush (and embarrassment) ripened when she thought of what the moistness was.

He spoke then, voice deep, silky and deliberate.

"Happy birthday, little one."

He traced her delicate jawline with a calloused thumb, and she unconsciously felt herself arching into his touch, almost like a pet desperate for its owner's physical affection.

"You- you know?" she whispered, as his thumb moved and brushed her moving lips.

He smiled and said nothing.

She pressed nearer to him. He, too, wore not a stitch of clothing, and it took every ounce of her willpower to stay focused on his angular, perfect features and not allow her eyes to stray any further below that—his gloriously naked masculine form was, after all, something that could be used as a weapon against her already crumbling composure. It was hard though, for her to ignore the flat, marble wall of sleek muscles against her own belly, as well as a particular hardness  _there_ …

"H-how did you know that today is my birthday?" Kyoko insisted.

He laughed silently, but drew her even closer, his bare arm curling around her small waist like a band of steel. The red that suffused her pale face burned as his muscled abdomen pressed hard against her soft, thin body, and as her small breasts crushed against his chest.

"When you were packing your things to move here with me," he answered gently, "I happened to see your passport then." There was a pause, and then his sculpted lips abruptly curled upwards, almost sardonically. "I take it you enjoyed my little gift?"

She inhaled bashfully and quickly looked away from knowing, gleaming obsidian eyes, feeling her pulse accelerate all over again, and her features heat up. If his attending to her just several minutes ago was supposed to be a birthday gift, then she had probably already received countless birthday gifts from him almost every day since the commencement of their relationship.

Their sexual life was one that Kyoko enjoyed—more than she should, as a matter of fact—tremendously, and that in itself was an understatement. The foreplay was never something that was rushed; he took it very seriously, pleasuring her unhurriedly with his experienced fingers and perfect lips (oh, how they were the death of her!) so as to make sure she was well lubricated before the main event. This usually resulted in several mind-blowing climaxes on her part, and they left her reeling and weak in his protective arms. Still woozy and her body uncharacteristically eager and pliant from the explosive feminine orgasms achieved by his skillful ministrations (and that was only supposed to  _prep_  her for the highlight of the night), he would deem her ready and moist enough for him to fully claim her.

She supposed that one other reason he took extremely resolute precautions to make sure she was well-prepared for his entrance was his  _size._ The male was large, and they both knew it. He could easily hurt her with the vastness of his girth, and she knew that he would never allow himself to do anything that might physically pain or injure her. On the contrary, the man's incredible sexual prowess in bed (which was something an awed Kyoko learnt to revere, despite knowing that it also came from years of experience, namely, not with her, which she refused to let it upset her. Her refusal, however, was not always very effective) engendered immense euphoria on her part, and his largeness only intensified the carnal pleasure, as he very easily accessed and tapped into the exact spots that made stars erupt in her eyes. She'd lost track of the number of times he had cleverly pushed her over the edge each night;  _eight, nine, ten_ …

If orgasms were supposed to be birthday gifts, then every day would seem to be her birthday. He was her drug, and she was growing rapidly intoxicated and addicted to him. He had ruined her. No other man could ever elicit such ecstasy within her as he did. She was drunk…

And the heady, invigorating sensation only escalated as his masculine hardness currently seared her nether region.

Kyoko reached down, and wrapped her little hands around his cock. Ren abruptly stilled, and his eyes seemed to darken, lashes casting shadows across his flawless cheekbones.

"I'm ready," she whispered, staring back into his cognac gaze.

She stroked him, her fingers curled around his pulsing girth. She was  _hungry_ ; it was rare of her to take such initiative, but Kyoko was growing desperate as he made no move to mount her. She spread her quaking thighs slightly apart, and, still holding onto the erect size of his beautiful manhood with both her hands, she pressed it nearer to her eager entrance, her dark pubic curls moist—

His single large hand closed over both her skinny wrists, keeping them locked together in place.

She nearly choked, his first name spilling from her lips at what he was blatantly denying her. The female struggled with both her hands, but his singular grip was like steel. " _Ren_ —"

"You're still sore from yesterday." It was not a question—it was very clearly a matter-of-fact statement on his part, and he said it quietly, rich voice husky.

"I'm  _fine_ —"

"No, you are not."

Kyoko was growing steadily frustrated. Of course he was right. He was always right. Last night he had taken her thrice, all in different places within the house—firstly on the kitchen counter (where he had carefully propped her diminutive body—she had been stark nude save for just an apron—onto its granite surface with her slender back against the wall, legs wound around his waist, and mounted her unapologetically), secondly in their bed where he had carried her exhausted body to after the first session, and lastly in the bathtub when they had been cleaning themselves up (or rather, he had been cleaning her up… at least, when they weren't too busy throughout the final romp).

It was only natural that she felt sore. The subsequent mornings after nights of such staggering physical passion often left her sore and exhausted, and throughout the rest of said day she would find herself  _limping_  even, and because of that, a tired Kyoko would usually sleep in until the afternoon (Ren was long gone by then, having departed early in the morning), before finally getting up and about to attend to her daily duties. She still had her part-time job as a social worker to see to, after all, and she enjoyed it very much, even though it meant that her coworkers (not to mention the innocent young children she interacted with several times as was part of her work) would question her with embarrassing inquiries, such as why she was limping.

She couldn't exactly tell them that she was  _sore_.

And right now, neither would she to Ren.

" _Please_ ," Kyoko forced out, her voice rising to an uncharacteristic whine. His hand had loosened enough above hers so that she let go of his erection and reached up to the rock hard wall of abdominal muscles above, her nails scratching at his perfect skin. She knew without looking that the muscled, sinuous curve of his bare back bore multiple pink scratches, which she had uncontrollably inflicted in the midst of the mind-blowing wanton passion last night, and she ignored the twinge of guilt she felt. "I'm really okay, Ren. I don't hurt at all—"

She let out a sharp gasp of shock as strong arms moved and scooped her from the bed up into mid-air against him. Her slender legs, weakened from the onslaught of orgasms just a couple of minutes ago, not to mention also from the vigor of last night, gave way helplessly, and she moaned lightly when she felt him easily lift them up with his arm (his other arm was wrapped securely around her tiny torso, holding her to him) and gently curl each leg one by one around his powerful waist.

And then in a single fluid motion, he had risen fully from the bed, carrying her with him, and her head fell against the warm, muscled hardness of his broad shoulder as he glided away. Wondering what was happening (her churning arousal was forgotten, at least for now), she asked hoarsely, "Where are we heading to?"

He didn't answer, but he didn't need to, for moments later she found themselves passing the open door into the luxurious bathroom. It was then when Kyoko detected a strange scent; a deliciously sweet scent it was, and she stiffened in his embrace and sniffed the air. Why did the bathroom smell so sweetly?

"What's that?" she asked, clearing her throat to try to erase the hoarseness in her voice. Her arms were around his neck. "It smells nice. Did you put candy in here or something?"

He laughed, and she shivered when she felt the deep, humored reverberations of his voice run through their entwined (not to mention naked) bodies.

Feeling miffed that he was laughing at her (he was always doing that!), she loosened her grasp around him and turned her copper head from where she had originally been facing the door of the bathroom to where the sweet smell was coming from.

Her hazel eyes widened in shock.

From within the large, oval-shaped beige marble bathtub was a dazzling pool of ivory white milk. It was beautiful and enchanting; it shimmered and seemed to flow out within the space like creamy white gossamer, silvery and lustrous, and to top it off, delicate scarlet rose petals were artfully scattered all around the pure white liquid, the dark red of the floral pattern a vivid, exotic contrast against the soft pearly sheen of the milk bathwater. The entire bath looked almost surreal.

It appeared just like an ethereal painting from a fairytale; a stolen scene, almost.

She was stunned.

"The bath is probably no longer as warm as it was before," Ren murmured regretfully, his baritone voice husky in her ear. "But I do hope you might enjoy this all the same."

" _Enjoy_  this?" Kyoko repeated incredulously, whipping her head back so that she could face him properly. His obsidian eyes bored intently into her hazel ones. "Tsuruga-san, did  _you_ prepare this while I was asleep?"

He smiled, an eyebrow arching. "Yes."

She was so speechless, so giddy with joy, that for a moment, she couldn't seem to find the words to speak.

"Tsuruga-san, I  _love_  this!" Kyoko squealed excitedly at last, her arms flying as she threw them enthusiastically around his slender neck once again. "It's so beautiful! This is the best birthday gift anyone has ever given me! Can we go in now? I've never had anything like this before! Thank you so much! I feel like a princess! I-I love you—"

She suddenly halted in her impassioned speech when she realized what she was saying.

There was a pause, and she realized that she was flushing again, her face tomato red. And then another thought struck her, bitter and melancholic as it was.

_I can't love him_.

Her lover seemed to sense her insecurity, one that she could not put further into words, for he said nothing to address what she had inadvertently uttered, but simply moved and gently lowered her little, naked frame into the bath, before following suit himself behind her, his motions leisurely graceful and with quiet purpose.

Kyoko inhaled shakily. Truthfully as she had said, this was the first time she had ever been able to bathe in a rose petal milk bath, and the lukewarm substance, akin to thick, heavy silk, lapped pleasurably at the sensitive pores of her skin, making her shudder with mild bliss as her body became submerged in the soothing milk. It was all so exciting—she had never been able to partake in any extravagant luxuries like this before. Breathlessly she peered at the dark crimson petals floating all around her like little rosy fingerprints, and she couldn't help but reach out and graze the soft petal surface with her milky-painted fingers.

"Tsuruga-san… how did you…?" Her voice was choked, no doubt from the overwhelming emotion wrecking her chest.

"It is not difficult to make this, my little princess," he answered candidly, his arm tightening lazily around her flat abdomen in response. She flushed hotly again at his wording, especially as she felt herself being pressed to his tall, panther-like frame behind her, the hard sleek muscles coiled against her slim back. She was glad at least that she was facing away from him; the last thing she needed was for him to see that her face was red again, though she had an annoyed feeling that he  _knew_ , even without looking.

Sometimes she had a disquieting feeling that he knew just about  _everything_.

"Looking up the recipe online is not hard to do," he continued, humming contentedly against her disheveled hair. "A few cups of milk powder, Epsom salts, and so on… The ingredients are easily accessible to anyone."

Kyoko refused, however, to let him discredit himself.

"I think this is incredible, Tsuruga-san!" she said instantly, reaching to grasp his arm tightly. The petals drifted around the couple serenely. " _You're_  incredible. I don't think there's anything in the world you can't do."

There was a drawn-out pause.

"Rather," Ren said thoughtfully, his voice curiously unreadable, "There is nothing I won't do."

Kyoko blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I wonder," he responded sardonically, voice drawing out in a teasing lilt. She felt another surge of petulant annoyance at his enigmatic ways—why couldn't he just tell her what he was thinking?!

She peered inquisitively as his long fingers stirred softly through the milk bathwater in a slow arc across the front of her relaxed body, as if beckoning something to her. She straightened from where she had initially been resting against him, trying to make sense of what was going on. Before her very eyes, the petite female stared disbelievingly as a large, full, blood-red rose—rather than a mere petal this time—floated towards her across the glimmering ivory surface of the milk bath.

"It's beautiful," she whispered in awe, staring at the gorgeous scarlet folds of the rose as it drew nearer to the small curve of her breasts.

It seemed that today was one wonderful birthday surprise after another.

"Why don't you take a closer look?" Ren suggested gently, from behind her.

"What do you…" Not knowing what to say, she moved her milk-smeared fingers and lifted the rose up from the milk. It was surprisingly heavy, and she cradled the exotic heart-shaped crimson petals of the flower in her dripping palm carefully, its stem hanging from between her digits.

It was then that she noticed it.

Shaped in the form of a single (albeit rather large) drop of breathtaking morning dew, a dark red ruby glinted at her from where it was nestled amongst the rich curved petals of the rose.

She nearly dropped the rose. " _Ren_ — _"_

"The Queen Rosa," he spoke quietly.

"W-What?"

"That is its name." He nodded his dark head gracefully at the innocent yet enticing teardrop-shaped ruby gleaming from the rose in her hand.

"Tsuruga-san, I can't."

"Today is your birthday, is it not?" His tone was calm, unmoved, and soft.

"Yes, it is," she said stubbornly. "And you've given me so many incredible things today that I will never forget. The milk bath, the roses, everything. And  _you_ —the fact that you are here for me … That alone remains to be the greatest birthday gift I have ever received. I am so happy, Tsuruga-san. This is more than enough. I can't accept this… The Queen Rosa, as you said. It's far too expensive and far too beautiful."

He tilted his head slightly, and she knew he was listening. His dark eyes had softened.

"One's birthday is a commemoration of the first day of one's life," he said softly. "Do you agree?"

Kyoko stared curiously at him, rose still in her hand. She was unsure of what he was getting at. "Y-Yes?"

"Then, by refusing my birthday gift to you, it is equivalent to saying that you do not wish to spend any days of your life with me."

Kyoko's jaw dropped, shocked. How on earth had Tsuruga Ren managed to twist his words like that, in order to make her feel as guilty as she did now? In her mind, she childishly cursed him—cursed the intelligent man that was an actor, clever in his words and clever in his portrayal to get what he wanted.

"That's not true, Tsuruga-san!" she burst out heatedly, her words falling out hastily into a babble. "You know that's not true! I  _want_  to spend my life with you! In fact, I'm having the privilege of getting to spend my life with you right now, and I have never been happier throughout everything I've had! You're the best man I have ever met! If anything, I want to spend the rest of my life with you—"

Her own argument seemed to dumfound her as she once again realized what she was saying. Her cheeks the color of a chili pepper, she quickly closed her mouth before she could say anymore of the nonsense sprouting from her lips.

Nonsense that was a growing truth she could not ignore.

Why couldn't she ever just shut up? Spend the rest of her life with him?

She could never do that, not with the father of her future child. That was something she had vowed to herself a long time ago.

Kyoko was brought out of her reverie as his long, dexterous fingers abruptly laced through her own, cradling the beautiful rose together in their entwined hands. Silvery-white drops of milk dripped from their fingers.

His baritone voice was quiet and tender.

"Then the Queen Rosa is yours to keep."

* * *

The showbiz world was a mad world, Kyoko thought, wincing as the camera lights went off in a blinding flash from all around her. She wondered if her retinas were going to survive until the end of this event.

That wasn't to say that all aspects of the showbiz world were unpleasant. Prior to arriving at the event, she had gotten to do something she had always loved and wanted to do but had never had the chance (or finances) to: going through a makeover. Ren's stylist (and Kyoko's stylist now as well, she supposed, at least for today) was a woman who evidently knew what she was doing, and Kyoko would be lying if she said she wasn't satisfied with the outcome of the stylist's efficient work. However, she did cringe at the stylist's bluntness during the process, specifically on certain comments the latter had made about her "tiny bust" being too small for her to wear a gown that would be daring in that department. Hence Kyoko had gotten an alternate white pencil dress—under a bridal theme—that was long-sleeved with a modest round neck, and with the Queen Rosa safely fastened around her collarbone.

Modesty did not necessarily reduce a garment's attraction. Kyoko absolutely adored what she was donning, and as if to make up for the lack of boldness in her bust, the stylist had chosen a dress with an artistic diamond-shaped cut right at the small of her back, baring her naked skin underneath. She had a slight inkling, though, that Ren had been somewhat responsible for her otherwise conservative choice of wear, as he was not the sort of man who liked her to display too much skin, at least not to people that were not him. This could probably explain why his large hand was currently splayed protectively over the exposed skin of the small of her back, guiding her along the red carpet. The veil around her legs danced prettily as she walked.

Yashiro was right behind the couple, while numerous bodyguards surrounded them and escorted the pair along the extremely publicized and scrutinized path in the public eye—a path that was, aforementioned, the red carpet, something she had only ever witnessed on television, and had never imagined herself partaking in. Kyoko knew for a fact that Ren rarely hired bodyguards throughout his working activities, being an extremely capable combatant himself, and that the presence of said guards right now was actually called for her benefit. She was glad to know that her lover was adamant to keep her well-protected, for the onslaught of reporters swarming around them scared her slightly, to say the least.

Not to mention the questions being thrown at them.

"Ren, who is your date? Who have you brought with you tonight?"

"Is she a newbie in the showbiz?"

"Ren, what is your relationship with your date? Is she a new lover of yours?"

"Ren, what happened to your supposed relationship with Miss Momose? Have you broken up with Momose?"

"Ren, who is this date of yours? What happened to Momose? You two were supposed to come together, weren't you? Have you forgotten tonight is Dark Moon's night?"

Kyoko had to bite the inside of her cheek to suppress the dark wave of jealousy rising in her chest, and to maintain the nonchalant expression on her face, despite her sudden petulant urge to reach over and slap every one of the reporters, if only to shut them up. Ignoring what her feelings might possibly signify, she instead forced herself to smile elegantly at the press, and moved her body even closer beside Ren's tall figure, aware that everyone was watching. Everyone, which should include Momose herself from wherever she currently was, Kyoko thought pettily. (It was difficult for her to make out anyone, especially not with the bulk of her bodyguards surrounding her.)

Ren was not the only who could be territorial.

Yashiro, on the other hand, was reacting to the sea of questions being fired in rapid succession at the couple. Again and again he repeated to the persistent reporters, in a firm, stone-cold voice that shocked Kyoko (he was always such a genial person in private that seeing him professionally at work never failed to stun her) that Ren was not obligated to answer any questions for now. The reporters, unfortunately, weren't being very obedient in response to Yashiro, and the interfering queries only kept coming, though Yashiro's frightening glare towards the slightly cowed reporters did slow them down a little.

Ren was saying nothing in return to the questions, but simply smiled gently at everyone around him, eliciting much enchanted cries from the bystanders, or more specifically, the females amongst the bystanders. Clearly he was accustomed to the chaos in his surroundings. The sound of the camera shutters whirring and the blinding lights were overwhelming, and Kyoko was glad that her partner never removed his reassuring arm around her, and she had to fight back a flush as she felt his gloved thumb gently stroke the bare skin of her back even as they strode—unafraid, at least on the surface from her part—on along the red carpet.

Meanwhile, Kyoko herself had been briefed and advised by both Ren and Yashiro beforehand that she need not say anything to the press, no matter what they asked her. Her privacy was her own, and just because she was attending an extremely publicized event did not mean she had to disclose anything of her own personal life to the media, especially if she did not want to. It was a choice for her to make, and if she wanted to keep mum about her name, then she need not say a thing, and more importantly, she did not have to feel guilty about it.

She was glad for that, though she couldn't help but wonder how Ren intended to announce their relationship amidst the pandemonium enclosing them.

Before long, they had reached the other end of the red carpet, much to her invisible relief. The press gathered around here had lessened considerably, though she soon found herself facing another group of people that proved to be equally challenging for her, if not more.

Actresses. Actors. Models. Television personalities. All kinds of celebrities (some of which Kyoko recognized from the rare times she had watched TV) stood before her, and she suddenly felt very small, her stomach sinking under her cool facade. Tall and adorned in fine, expensive clothing, they cut impressive figures from where they stood in all corners of the foyer. While they, unlike the press, naturally did not pelt her with questions about her mysterious status or identity, the atmosphere was suffocating. Their gazes seemed to zoom in on her instantly, a skeptical query in their otherwise silent expressions, before they looked away and respectfully acknowledged Ren, either verbally or with wordless gestures.

"Tsuruga-san."

A new voice, feminine, spoke politely.

Kyoko swallowed soundlessly as she came face to face with a woman so ethereally beautiful she wondered if it was even possible.

She was tall, taller than Kyoko, the latter whom had always been petite. She was dressed in an hourglass black strapless evening gown with a plunging neckline (the exact kind of gown Kyoko herself had been unable to wear, due to her limited female assets) that delineated her perfect, model-like figure tightly as a second skin. Hair the silken color of gold gathered and curled down lavishly along the right side of her voluminous breasts, and ruby jewelry gleamed from her pretty ears and sensual neck. She approached them, black stilettos clicking on the ground, her footsteps confident, almost like a supermodel moving casually along the catwalk—in the same graceful way Ren always moved himself. She lifted a creamy, bare arm towards him, smiling.

The woman whom Kyoko had seen in pictures online just the day before had come to life.

Next to her was a tall man Kyoko did not recognize, though she could tell he was a respectable celebrity in his own right, judging by the several nods of greeting he was getting from the other public figures around him, to which he reciprocated affably. Dressed in a dark, expensive tuxedo, he looked handsome and distinguished, though Kyoko was certain that his looks did not come close to Ren's.

Ren spoke then, sensuous lips curling into a cordial, amiable smile at both the woman and man.

"Kijima-san. Momose-san."

Kyoko tensed in slight disappointment when she felt her lover withdraw his arm from around her small waist. Her disappointment, however, was immediately the least of her concern at what came next. She breathed in, her heart pounding rapidly, when Ren took Momose's outstretched hand, his long skilled fingers lifting her palm, and kissed the back of it, his lips gently brushing her knuckles.

It was then that a loud cheer seemed to rise in a deafening cry in Kyoko's ears, and she heard, after a few long seconds of confusion, the bystanders of the crowd along the red carpet chanting a few unmistakable words from all around her.

" _Golden Couple!"_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm, nothing much to say except I really am sorry for the late update here. Thanks to those who left Kudos and comments; you guys rock! It makes me sad that the Skip Beat! fandom is so painfully small on AO3 compared to on fanfiction.net. If that's the case, I'll see if I still want to update. 
> 
> Oh, and yandere!Ren is my groove :D

The words were like a slap to Kyoko's face.

_Golden Couple._

The humiliation was terrible, and she suppressed the immediate urge to run and hide, especially from all the other celebrities watching them. Here she stood blatantly in sight as Ren's date for the night, and yet the crowd—how she loathed them suddenly!—held no qualms in expressing their desire for the coming together of Ren and Momose. She was no fool on what the words meant; she knew of the term that everyone had come up with to label the pairing of her boyfriend and his co-star, and it  _hurt_. Kyoko's stomach clenched tightly beneath her impassive exterior (it was thank goodness her composure did not visibly fall apart), and she stole a quick glance towards Ren.

She was incredulous to see that he displayed no acknowledgement towards what the crowd had chanted—in fact, from the way he behaved, it was as if they had said nothing, even though the words were still echoing around the foyer like a persistent, morbid reminder of the fact that Kyoko did not belong here.

_Golden Couple._

Kyoko didn't know whether to be angry or relieved about her lover's lack of reaction. An irritated thought niggled at the back of her head, and she bit her lip.

Wasn't he going to correct the crowd; tell them that they were wrong? Was that not the whole point of her being here with him at the Star Awards?

Ren's dark head calmly rose and he released Momose's hand then (a good thing, since Kyoko nearly reached over on a whim to forcibly pry his hand off hers), and smiled candidly at the blonde female, pale lips curling upwards. "It seems everyone is rather excited tonight."

Kyoko's jaw nearly dropped.

That was it? That was to be his only acknowledgement of what the crazy crowd had screamed towards him and Momose? Was he  _really_  not going to set them right? And why the hell, she wondered mutinously, was he so damn nonchalant about the whole thing?

It irked her far more than she had expected it to.

 _Stop it,_  she told herself fervently.  _Why do you care if he cares? This fragile thing with him that you call a relationship isn't going to last anyway. You know that._

The woman named Itsumi Momose smiled back at Ren, her large baby blue eyes twinkling beneath a row of dark lashes so perfect Kyoko was tempted to whip out a pair of tweezers and pluck them off. "It's always good that there is enthusiasm. Don't you agree?"

Her rich voice was like silk, womanly and soft.

It was then when Kyoko realised that she utterly detested this woman, even though she had barely known her for more than a few minutes. It was an irrational hatred, but logic was the last thing she expected from her emotions, including what she felt towards Ren.

Beside Momose, the distingushed-looking man named Kijima laughed, throwing his head back as if a joke had just gone off… a joke that Kyoko could not for the life of her see.

"Congratulations, both of you, on Dark Moon's success," he said genially, though she noticed that his gaze curiously drifted towards where she—the third wheel between the Golden Couple, evidently—stood. "I really must applaud you. I mean, I've never gotten this level of success in any of my films, but oh well, who am I to complain?"

"You jest," Ren responded courteously. "Still, I thank you."

Momose nodded warmly.

"Excuse me," a new, strained voice abruptly spoke. It was hard to hear, especially with all the noise from the other people—celebrity and press alike—crowding the foyer. Kyoko blinked as she took in the sight of a man walking towards them, dressed neatly in an expensive tuxedo. He appeared almost frail, she thought, with his slender stature, thin face and large brown eyes. Overlong bangs of blonde hair framed his soft cheeks.

"Ogata-san," Momose greeted him. She clearly recognised the man, and Kyoko watched as the buxom, blonde beauty bowed deeply in obvious respect towards the newcomer. "How wonderful to see you."

Ren, Yashiro (who was standing behind Ren and Kyoko, unspeaking), and Kijima, too, inclined their heads in polite greeting at the male.

It took Kyoko another second to fully recognise the newcomer herself. Hiroaki Ogata. The director of Dark Moon, she thought.

Prior to the Star Awards, Ren and Yashiro had showed her photographs and pictures of a few various celebrities she might likely come across with; most of them were closely associated to Dark Moon. Ren had explained in brief detail their names, backgrounds, and personalities, all of which he very kindly gave amazing credit for. Thanks to his given information, she was more prepared (or as prepared as she would ever be) to face Ren's fellow stars, knowing she would be able to at least recognize some of them, and have a brief understanding about their roles in the entertainment industry, or more specifically, in Ren's career.

Kyoko knew that Ren had informed her some of the details beforehand in order to make her feel less alienated and daunted by the foreign atmosphere (in her perspective, anyway) of the Star Awards, and she greatly appreciated his efforts. She had forced herself to maintain a neutral expression when he described Momose, even though she'd already read up about the actress online. Only she didn't let him know that, because…

He would certainly be curious enough to ask why, and the last thing she wanted to let him know was about her insecurities regarding the glamorous actress.

His own narration about Momose had been concise and simple:

"A full-time actress who has commendable standing in the industry. She is my co-star in Dark Moon, and plays Mizuki, the female lead. She is a very friendly person, so there's no need to worry."

And then Ren had showed Kyoko a photograph of Momose. She had thanked the stars that it hadn't been a racy photo (from what she had privately searched online, Momose Itsumi was a lover of raunchy, sexual photoshoots, where she was often decked in revealing lingerie before the cameras, or sometimes, in nothing at all), but a rather demure one of her.

Demure, but still absolutely gorgeous as hell.

She was also glad Ren hadn't showed her the intimate photoshoot he had shared with Momose, where they had  _both_  been almost naked. Not that he would, of course, for Ren definitely had more tact than that.

He had, naturally, introduced her to Ogata's profile as well beforehand, and it was thanks to that she recognised the director now.

Silently, she stood beside her lover, watching as the trio—Kijima, Momose, and Ren—exchanged pleasantries with Ogata. She was slightly taken aback when Ren didn't introduce her (for goodness' sake, she was his date!), and also somewhat miffed. He merely conversed with the rest, not even once addressing Kyoko, and for a split second Kijima and Momose glanced at her, as if curious themselves on why Ren wasn't introducing his date.

"It's so amazing to see all of you," Ogata was saying. He looked, Kyoko thought, almost like a mouse: timid and meek. It was surprising, especially for someone who happened to be a director, a status that demanded much authority. "I hope you all are doing fine."

"Oh, we're doing more than fine. It's thanks to you that Dark Moon turned out so well," Momose gushed, batting long false lashes.

"I'm definitely going to be the first to audition for your next project, Ogata-san," Kijima added. "Your work is incredible."

Ogata flushed. "Thank you for your compliment. It would be an honor, Kijima-san."

Kyoko was positive that she probably stuck out like a sore thumb at the moment. As the conversation delved on, the actors and director began to discuss about the nominated awards this year, and she was at an utter loss regarding the terminology they were using. The fact that she didn't belong to this business had never made her feel more chagrinned as it did now. She was tempted, on a petulant whim, to hastily retreat and hide herself back into the limousine she had arrived here in (not that she could, since the limo was gone, but still).

"By the way, Tsuruga-san, aren't you going to, um, introduce to us your date?"

She stiffened in surprise; Ogata, who had spoken, was smiling shyly at her. Kijima and Momose were looking fully at her as well, especially now that they were given the excuse to.

She smiled back, not knowing what to say, and the pressure of their combined scrutiny made her increasingly nervous.

"A million apologies, Ogata-san. Ren won't be divulging any information about his date for now." A new voice had uttered, and Kyoko was relieved to note that it was Yashiro. The manager was astonishingly good at his job—he faded out of attention when Ren's powerful, star-like presence commanded the place, but just as quickly loomed back into authority the moment unwanted queries were raised towards Ren, at least in Yashiro's books.

Meanwhile, the bulk of bodyguards assigned to Kyoko had left once they reached the red carpet, leaving only a single one behind, and he stood, stoic and soundless, right behind Kyoko and beside Yashiro.

"I… Yes, I understand," Ogata said, eyes widening. He glanced at Ren, whose features were inscrutable. "Speaking of which, may I borrow a minute of your time, along with Momose-san? We need to take a picture with the rest of the Dark Moon cast."

Ren smiled. "Of course." He turned, and Kyoko's heart leapt abruptly in her chest as his large, white-gloved hand reached over and lifted her small, thin one, their fingers entwining. His dark eyes raked her pale face intently. "Are you alright?"

"I'll be okay," Kyoko said hastily, uncomfortably aware that everyone—the media and Ren's fellow celebrities—were probably watching. "You go on. Don't worry about me."

He smiled at her, and then gently let go of her hand. The cold air that greeted her bare skin stunned her; she hadn't expected to miss his warmth, as fleeting as it had been. The piercing iciness in her flesh seemed to intensify when he moved away and joined Momose. The both of them were tall and willowy, and she couldn't deny that they were a gorgeous couple together. Her heart lurched as the blonde slinked her arm around his, slender manicured fingers grasping his offered elbow.

The two of them glided off side by side, their footfalls graceful and elegant, as Ogata led them into a nearby crowd, filled with flashing lights. Kyoko widened her eyes when she realised that there was a large poster pasted on a massive stretch of wall not far from her (she couldn't believe she hadn't noticed it earlier), and reporters were circling around it like hawks, cameras at the ready. The poster depicted the scene of Ren and Momose together, their faces—romantically illuminated by the vibrant city lights in the background of the picture—close and intimate.

She swallowed. It was the promotional picture for Dark Moon. And gathered in a line right in front of the picture on a scarlet-carpeted platform posed several unfamiliar celebrities, clad in shimmering evening wear for the cameras; most likely they were other cast members of the drama, she thought.

Kyoko continued watching, stomach twisting uneasily, as Ren and Momose—the main stars of Dark Moon—arrived to join them, and as the volume of the spectators' noise went ballistic in response.

"Hey, Miss."

It took her a few seconds to realise someone was addressing her, and she turned in surprise, nearly wobbling on her platform wedges (Ren had been mysteriously firm when discussing with his stylist that Kyoko did not wear stilettos, or any other precarious, uncomfortable design of high heels), before taking in the unexpected sight of Kijima grinning at her. He stood casually, hands tucked in the pockets of his tux.

"Kijima-san." Yashiro, who had not left Kyoko's side (including the lone bodyguard), bent his head respecfully at the actor. "I—"

"Don't worry," Kijima waved his hand jovially, still grinning at Kyoko. "I won't be asking any unwanted questions about this enigmatic little lady here, if that's what you're concerned about. Still, it's alright if I chat with her, isn't it?"

Yashiro looked forced between reluctance and amusement. "Yes."

Kyoko smiled weakly back at Kijima. It appeared that she was not the only one who had been momentarily abandoned by their date, and she didn't know whether to feel relieved or disconcerted at that. "Hello. Nice to meet you."

"Very nice to meet you, too," he countered frankly, bowing. "Nothing pleases me more than to meet a beautiful lady."

Kyoko fought a flush. Was he flirting with her? "I… I… Thank you?"

"I'm very curious," Kijima continued, watching her. She stiffened at his open appraisal. "Very curious, indeed."

"About?" she asked demurely, keeping her tone neutral.

He shrugged. "Many things, really. You see, I've been in the business for a very long time, and I know a lot of contacts. The fact that I don't recognise you can mean either..." He raised a finger. "First possibility: you're a newbie. That's entirely plausible, because there are always newcomers in this line of work, though how you managed to get Japan's biggest star as your date tonight is definitely puzzling. I won't eliminate the fact that you might be his labelmate. That could explain how you got to know him, but even that is a slim possibility, for Ren has many new labelmates whom he doesn't have the time to mingle with. Second possibility…" He lowered his finger, and smiled again at her. "Well. This one should be simple. You don't belong to this business."

Kyoko kept her features expressionless. "I see."

"That's an even slimmer possibility, of course," Kijima admitted pensively. "How on earth could a civilian meet Tsuruga Ren?"

"How on earth, indeed?" Kyoko said softly. The question seemed to startle even herself.

Of course she knew how. She had met him through Sho, during the singer's party months ago—but even then Kijima's question lingered in her mind. Something was niggling at the back of her head, but she wasn't sure what. A sense of unease grew within her.

"You seem confused," Kijima said. "Are you alright, Miss?"

Kyoko straightened. She realised with a jolt that Yashiro and Kijima were both looking at her in a mix of curiosity and concern.

"I'm fine," she said hastily. Her hand reached up to lightly grasp the Queen Rosa around her small neck, more out of habit than anything else.

There was a pause, and then Kijima spoke again.

"May I give you some advice?" he asked abruptly.

She looked at him bemusedly. "Yes."

"I don't know what your relationship is with Ren, and honestly speaking, it's none of my business, as Yashiro here has made it clear," he stated. "But let's say, perhaps, that you are Ren's newest lover. Shall we assume that?"

Her fingers tightened on the large, beautiful red ruby resting against her collarbone. "Yes?"

"I have known Ren for many years, more than most people. I see him in a slightly different view from what others perceive of him," Kijima answered bluntly. "We presume you are his lover. If so, I advise that you had better hope, for your own sake, that you end up like all his previous lovers."

"And how did they end up?" Kyoko inquired quietly.

Yashiro cut in. "Kijima-san—"

"They ended up abandoned," Kijima said, his eyes solemn and sombre. "But it is always better to be abandoned than to be loved by Tsuruga Ren, my dear lady."

Kyoko couldn't deny the dark curiosity sprouting in the back of her throat. "How is that…? I-I don't understand what you are saying, Kijima-san."

Yashiro inhaled. "Please stop with all this nonsense, Kijima-san."

"Ren may be the kindest gentleman you have met," the actor went on, ignoring the manager. "But unfortunately, he is the kindest when he does not care. Likewise, when he cares, that kindness will disappear. The gentleman changes and becomes a hunter. I have seen that from my own personal experience, when it came to certain business ventures we explored together."

Kyoko stared at him. "I still don't—"

"I am talking about a hunter," Kijima said. "Hunters prey, correct? This is no exception for Ren. The people in his life have never been his prey as far as I can tell, because he has simply never cared before. So do tell me, Miss…" He leaned forward, head cocked questioningly.

"Are you his prey, or will you be abandoned?"

* * *

Kyoko stared at her reflection in the crystal mirror. Large hazel eyes looked right back at her, and she was slightly relieved to note there was no tell-tale weariness in her features. Her stylist had done a pretty good job dolling her up, she had to admit, taking in her glossy pink lips, the silvery eyeliner coating the brim of her full lashes, and the fancy layer of foundation adorning her fair complexion. The white rose tucked prettily in the side of her chignon pleased her; nothing made her happier than seeing the floral touch to her hairstyle.

It was about the only thing that made her happy tonight, really.

She sighed, dropping her gaze back to the marble basin. She was currently inside the ladies' washroom, and it was ridiculous, honestly, that this tiny room packed with the flushing cubicles brought her more solace and relief than any other area within the grand, air-conditioned lounge outside.

It wasn't even the press that was upsetting her. Most of them had vanished by the time she, along with Ren and Yashiro, had ventured from the sheltered foyer and entered through the main doors to an enclosed lounge inside. The place reminded her of a typical reception lounge in a glamorous five-star hotel, only far more spacious; opulent chandeliers loomed above them in a haunting array of amber lights, and the floor was carpeted in lush, rich colors. Occasionally a waiter would approach them and politely offer them wine on his tray, but Ren refused to let Kyoko drink any alcohol, ordering warm water for her instead.

She had looked around, sipping the water, only to notice that Kijima and Momose had vanished—she had no idea where they might have gone in this enormous, seemingly endless place, with its winding, lengthy corridors. Just earlier Kijima had shortly excused himself after finishing his cryptic speech to a stunned Kyoko, mere minutes before Ren had returned to her side.

Kyoko had chosen to keep mum about her newfound knowledge (she wasn't even sure what she had learnt from Kijima, actually) to Ren, although she had a feeling that Yashiro, who had been present the whole time Kijima had spoken to her, might inform Ren about it later.

She didn't know what Kijima had been trying to convey to her, and she didn't have the time to ponder about it. Next thing she knew, Ren was guiding her around the lounge (Yashiro had headed off to speak to the administration on some unknown matters), and she was busy trying to catch her breath as he met and conversed with other celebrities passing their way.

If Kyoko thought Momose had been the worst, then she was wrong.

While Ren had indeed introduced her to the names and backgrounds of several public figures before the Star Awards commenced, those names had mostly consisted of the cast belonging to Dark Moon. She knew that his social circle in this business was vast, and therefore it was near impossible for him to let her know beforehand the identities of everyone else he knew, but she was still dismayed to realise she recognized practically no one since they had entered the lounge.

And why on earth were so many of his acquaintances women?!

Kyoko wasn't a fool. Some of the gorgeous, tall females (it wasn't hard for her to see that they were fashion models slash actresses) that had approached him were definitely his exes, if the casually intimate manner they had greeted him with was anything to go by. Any uncertainties she had about this possibility were sealed when one of them, the latest in the line of women he had exchanged light pleasantries with, had stated, rather matter-of-factly, "I see you've finally moved on already, Ren, darling," before casting a coy, meaningful look at Kyoko.

Ren had simply smiled wordlessly in reply.

And to add insult to injury, Ren had not introduced her—had, in fact, said nothing about Kyoko throughout the whole time they stepped into the lounge. Although his arm remained firmly enclosed around her waist like a reassuring band of steel for the past hour, he made no verbal notion to unveil her secret identity before the other celebrities. Some of the women chatting with him had even glanced at Kyoko pointedly, as if awaiting an introduction, but he paid them no heed.

At this point, Kyoko wasn't sure anymore if he actually intended to announce the nature of their relationship. She wouldn't be surprised though, at the rate things were going, if they ended the night of the awards show with her secret identity still intact.

In any case, that would, after all, still prove beneficial for her… right?

"Shouldn't you be with the Dark Moon cast?" she whispered to him instead, attempting to distract herself from her inner turmoil once they were out of earshot from the models. She lowered the glass of water down onto a nearby tray. "I don't see Momose-san anywhere. Maybe you should find her—"

Ren looked amusedly at her, perfect lips rising. "It looks like someone is eager to get rid of me today."

Kyoko's throat went dry. "Of course not!" she exclaimed in a hushed tone. "I would never think that."

"Oh?" Ren murmured thoughtfully. "I should hope you are being honest."

"I  _am_  honest," Kyoko snapped, with more force than she had intended. Her pulse raced.

_Unlike you. You're the one who said you would announce our relationship here. So why, Tsuruga-san, why…_

_Why are you ignoring me?_

His dark eyes were unfathomable as he gazed at her then. "Then pray enlighten me," he said quietly, "as to what Kijima-san spoke to you about earlier?"

Kyoko stared in shock. Ren had been busy at that time, being held up at the impromptu Dark Moon photoshoot with the rest of the acting cast. There was little chance he could have paid attention to her, not with the mad onslaught of cameras going off and the mass of reporters around him. It seemed impossible. She knew for a fact that Yashiro hadn't told Ren about it yet—she had been next to the both of them ever since Kijima's cryptic word of warning, and Yashiro had not brought it up.

Which could only mean one thing: Ren had indeed noticed, as improbable as the circumstances had seemed.

Tsuruga Ren was far sharper than she had expected him to be.

The word  _hunter_  suddenly flashed across her mind, and she squashed the ridiculousness of it quickly before it surfaced in her demeanor.

"It was nothing," Kyoko said rapidly. "He was just being friendly."

His shrewd cognac eyes silently raked her face.

"I mean," Kyoko stammered uncomfortably, "He really didn't say anything much. He was very nice. He was just saying hi. He… I… "

It was evident Ren didn't believe her, if his arched brows were any indication.

Not knowing what else to say, she had fearfully decided to retreat, not just from him but also from  _everything_ ; including the pent-up pressure welling up in her chest from being in the constant company of the other celebrities lingering at the lounge, and had then given the most common of excuses: the washroom.

And so here she stood, staring at the mirror, wondering what to do next. Her fingers stirred and touched the Queen Rosa around her neck, seeking comfort from it.

She couldn't wait for the night to end already.

One of the cubicle doors behind her abruptly opened, and a woman appeared, tucking an expensive leather clutch beneath her arm, and Kyoko froze as she saw who it was.

Mimori Nanokura.

Also known as the woman who had ruined her; the same woman whom she had stumbled across locking lips with Sho that fateful day months ago, and who had shattered Kyoko's romantic naivety towards men in general. This woman, the third party with an unfaithful Sho, had haunted her dreams for countless nights ever since—the nightmares had only ceased recently after meeting Ren.

This woman was standing right next to her right now. Only this wasn't a dream.

This was very real.

Of course Mimori would be here. While the Star Awards was an event that celebrated entertainers of the filming industry, Mimori was a model who often acted in Sho's music videos, and in occasional commercials. While she was definitely not here because she was nominated for any awards, anyone who delved in acting (be it of any extent) was bound to be invited here. Even Kanae had been invited; she had declined merely because she wanted to spend more time with her baby.

_Had Mimori brought Sho as her date?_

Kyoko dismissed the possibility quickly. This was unlikely—Sho hated Ren, and an event that solely celebrated his number one rival's specific profession in the showbiz would annoy him to no end.

She knew her childhood friend well.

"Hey, you."

Kyoko jerked in horror. She had been so caught up in her thoughts that she had forgotten to hide her face from Mimori; the girl, who abhorred her as much as Kyoko abhorred Sho, was bound to recognise her...

"You kinda look like someone I know." Mimori's deeply mascaraed eyes were narrowed. She was wearing a tiny latex dress so revealing that Kyoko could see the darker shade of her (bra-less) nipples beneath the light see-through beige material. "You won't believe how much you resemble her."

Kyoko blinked, feeling relief course through her veins.

She made a mental note to privately thank her incredible stylist later on. Her makeover had truly done wonders transforming her.

"If she was actually pretty, I mean," Mimori added, not very nicely. Kyoko wasn't sure whether to feel insulted or flattered.

"Really?" She fought to keep her voice politely interested. "Is she your friend?"

Mimori snorted. She had gone over and was lathering soap on her hands by the basin. "Hardly. She was my boyfriend's ex. Maybe you know him. Fuwa Sho." There was audible pride in her voice.

"Oh. Yes, I know him." Kyoko didn't know why she wasn't dashing out of the washroom first chance she got—something was pressing the back of her skull, urging her to stay. She toyed instead with the handle of the tap, pretending she was busy with the gush of water.

"He's the biggest rock star in the industry right now," Mimori bragged.

_He's the biggest dick in the world, that's what._

"Is he your date tonight?" Kyoko said cautiously, her heart pounding. "I didn't see him."

Mimori shook her head, the arrogance in her face—heavily coated with make-up and black lipstick—fading to be replaced by annoyance. "No. That asshole chose not to come. He doesn't like film award shows."

Kyoko released a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"Who are you, anyway?" Mimori wanted to know, after a moment's pause. "You're with Tsuruga Ren, right? The press nearly went bonkers when you two arrived just now. Are you his newest girlfriend?"

"Um," Kyoko said. "Actually—"

"If you are," Mimose said, "Then you're the opposite."

She was confused. "What do you mean?"

Mimori rinsed her hands, black nails glinting. "I mean that I'm  _your_  boyfriend's ex."

Cold ice seemed to flood Kyoko's lungs.

_Mimori had dated Ren before?_

The other woman grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser. "You know, I never thought I'd admit this, but if I saw my boyfriend's ex again, there's something I might want to tell her. "

It took Kyoko several seconds to gather the energy to speak again. "And what is that?"

Mimori shook her head, tossed the used paper towel into a bin, and picked up her leather clutch. "It's personal."

And then she had exited the washroom, and was gone.

* * *

Kyoko straightened from where she was seated, and applauded again for what seemed to be the nth time as another actress claimed an award. Along with what felt like hundreds of film stars in the cinematic auditorium, she had been assigned one of the countless rows of plush crimson seats not far from where the stage was, and right beside Ren. She still couldn't believe that she was currently next to her lover in one of the most surreal scenarios possible: the gathering point of the rich and famous.

She also could not believe, for less happier reasons this time, that she was seated next to Momose as well, and that Kijima was beside Momose on the other side. The blonde beauty had said nothing to her throughout the entire presentation, even when Kyoko had whispered a meek hello upon arriving in her seat. Kijima, too, was, for some reason, pretending she didn't exist.

It seemed they had fully picked up the fact that Ren didn't seem interested to introduce his date, and if that was the case, then she wasn't really anyone worthy of their attention, either. They had greeted Ren warmly again in the auditorium when they had gotten to their seating, but this time they barely looked Kyoko's way. Gone was the curiosity in their expressions—she was about as substantial as air to them now. Even the media seemed to have lost their interest; the cameramen and reporters positioned around the sides of the theater appeared more focused on capturing Ren, Momose and Kijima… at least, for the stars around her immediate vicinity from what she could see.

The wave of exhaustion had caught her off-guard. Faint dizziness trickled in the edges of her vision, and she had rested her head against the back of the comfortable red cinema seat, trying not to doze off as she felt Ren's adroit gloved fingers gently stroke the small veins beneath her knuckles from where their hands were discreetly entwined underneath the thick lacy veil of the lower half of her white dress, hidden out of sight. The host's microphone-enhanced voice, which had been droning on in the auditorium for the past few hours, was not helping her sudden fatigue.

Her tiredness, however, was put instantly on hold when the host had, in the next moment, proudly proclaimed Ren's name for the Best Actor Award for Dark Moon. The tremendous applause that thundered across the auditorium filled her ears like a tidal wave, and she had gotten to her feet at once, drowsiness forgotten, cheering along with the rest of the occupants as Ren rose gracefully from his seat. No one looked surprised he had won—he had easily beaten out three other male candidates for the award, one of whom had been Kijima himself for another drama the latter had acted in—and if anything, they appeared delighted for him.

The gossamer white of his Armani suit was a stark, regal contrast against the dark scarlet of the seating in the cinematic theater as he moved fluidly past the rows of fervently clapping celebrities (all of them had risen to their feet as well) towards the stage, dark eyes flashing. Even then Kyoko found it difficult not to admire his long, sinuous legs while he glided languidly up the carpeted steps of the stage. The awaiting host passed the golden statuette—Kyoko was not unfamiliar with it, for she had seen similar statuettes back in his home, gathered from all the awards he had won prior—to the male.

Ren smiled warmly at the audience, who were still clapping vigorously. His obsidian eyes gleamed.

"Excuse me," a familiar voice said acidly beside Kyoko, and she turned to meet cold sapphire-blue eyes, framed by long, pretty sooty lashes.

"S-Sorry?" Kyoko said, bewildered, her hands still clapping mechanically. What did the other woman want?

Momose's baby blues flickered downwards, and Kyoko followed the direction of her scrutiny.

Her platform wedges were pressed atop the silky black train of Momose's lavish evening gown from where she was standing.

"Oh my god," Kyoko cried at once, taking a few steps back so that her shoes released their hold on the gorgeous silk. "I'm so sorry."

"I do hope," Momose said softly, her tone cool amidst the splattering of applause, "that you know this gown is not something you can afford to pay damages for."

"I-I'm really sorry," Kyoko said again, face flushing.

"The same way, perhaps," Momose drawled, her feminine, honeyed voice dropping even lower in volume, "that you cannot afford the dress you are currently wearing. It must be nice to receive charities from the wealthy, isn't it?"

The words were like a slap to her face. She was so stunned that she was rendered momentarily speechless.

And the main reason was because Momose was absolutely right.

It took the shocked and utterly mortified woman a few seconds to realise Ren had begun speaking into the microphone, his rich, deep baritone quietly stirring the air. The applause had reluctantly died down, and everyone was beaming expectantly at the male, awaiting his speech. Camera bulbs went off and illuminated the stage in fleeting glows.

"Dark Moon is, as many know, the first romantic project I have ever undertaken." Ren's perfect lips curved graciously. "Its romantic elements, I must admit, posed as a challenge personally in the beginning during filming. I am very fortunate; my co-stars were extremely kind and accommodating despite my inexperience in acting out that genre."

Momose, Kyoko noticed through a daze, was no longer looking at Kyoko and was instead smiling in Ren's direction from beside her.

"There are many people whom I owe my gratitude to for overcoming that inexperience." Ren's smoky eyes seemed to become darker. "My beautiful main co-star, the esteemed Miss Momose—" Applause broke out again, and the blonde beauty gave an artfully bashful smile as everyone's attention—and the cameras—swiveled towards her. She was truly beautiful, Kyoko thought dully, taking in the woman's shiny gold hair and delicate rosebud mouth. "…Ogata-san, our kind, patient, and very talented director, and of course, every other member of the diligent team behind Dark Moon. My manager, Yashiro, who is unfortunately absent from the theater at the moment, is another person whom I am deeply indebted to. And last but not least, I cannot forget the biggest driving force behind my sudden familiarity with the romantic genre—as is prevalent in Dark Moon—whom I have brought as my date tonight." His soft voice grew silkier, and gentler. "She is my heart. We are, in fact, expecting our first child together."

The entire theater froze.

Kyoko froze.

The Queen Rosa seemed to, in that stilled heartbeat, burn into her skin like scarlet fire.


End file.
